House of Hart: Intro to a Theme
by roguedoll
Summary: After a life changing injuries Lady Jaye and Flint are back on their first high tempo mission can they survive teaming up with a washed up seal, a burned spy and his crazy ex-girlfriend? Meanwhile Destro has a plot that will change the Joe team forever.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: GI Joe is owned by Hasbro, the Burn Notice Characters, NCIS, JAG and Hawaii 5-0 characters are all owned by their respective stations, creators. Marvel Comic Characters are the property of Marvel, duh. Please don't sue, I work for a living. All I really have to give up this moment is .50 cents.

Authors Note: This is book one of a bigger series that I have been working on for a while. This is all Sunbow Cartoon continuity. Think of this as the backdoor pilot, on Burn Notice. Things are slightly different than in the Cartoon. Where the base is located, some of the episodes references are slightly different due to the fact this was supposed to be more of a TV show feel when I started on this. Stop if you're a Snake-Eyes and Scarlett fan.

Fraternization rules will not be addressed in this, sorry. I know the rules, but the characters were created in the 80s when the rules were nothing like they are today. There are other stories out there that touch on it written wonderfully check those out. But if you really want to I can pull out the PowerPoint, I have it on my hard drive. (I really do know the rules very well like twice a year for six years well, one year it was four times)

* * *

Prologue

September 27, 2015

0545 Zulu Time

30 minutes outside of Ball Ground, Georgia

That second beer had been a bad idea. Flint thought as he blinked away the filmy cover on his eyes. As he regained his bearings; the acrid smell of gasoline and oil assailed his nose. He realized he was in a chop shop; to his left was a staircase he concluded went to offices above the garage, to this right was a beat up 1967 Impala in one of the bays not yet torn apart, in front of him was the prettiest girl at Fort Colton.

"You know when I suggested we get out of here, Flint, this wasn't really what I had in mind." Her Scottish brogue sounded thick in his ears. As much as he loved the sound of her voice; the accent was a tell-tale sign that she was irritated. "Flint, I'm more of a motorcycle kind of girl. Not that the Impala doesn't have its own appeal."

Leave it to her to be snarky on her when captured by the enemy, Flint thought. If her sarcastic wit was the price to pay for being captured with the GI Joe's top Covert Ops agent, Lady Jaye, he'd deal.

The last thing he remembered was her green eyes looking up at him; leaning in her lips pressed against his neck, suggesting that they leave Izzy's and head to their place. He had drowned the rest of his beer and followed her out into the night air. His headache and Lady Jaye's eyes squinting against the light told him that someone had slipped something into their drink.

"Don't worry this is going to be a piece of cake;" he flexed his arms against his bonds noticing that they had sufficient give. "Three hours tops we'll be sitting in a booth at the Waffle House chowing down."

As he finished that statement Buzzer walked over with a sledgehammer slung on his shoulder, the biker took a long drag of his cigarette examining him. "So Flint, see we have some questions for you; but, we can't be having you going anywhere." With that statement, Buzzer swung the twenty-five-pound sledgehammer on his right leg right above his ankle. He could not but help to howl in pain as bone shattered.

His brain automatically started processing the unfamiliar pain; cataloging it against every bump, bruise, broken bone and gunshot wound he had ever received. In a second, it decided that this new pain fell somewhere between a broken arm when he was twelve and the 9mm bullet that ripped through his stomach when on a mission in Paris.

He took deep gulping breaths to get the stars in front of his eyes to dissipate. Once they did, he saw that Monkeywrench had Lady Jaye standing up. Flint moaned when he saw the glint of a camp knife held close to her face. "You know, I thought she was kind of a looker in her uniform. Damn son, her ass fills out these jeans quite nicely."

Flint afraid that any wrong move would get Lady Jaye killed glared at the greasy bikers. The two took delight in the rage on his face. "See, Flint, it's this simple; we figured that, you, being a Joe an all you done gone through that crazy SERE training." Buzzer explained. "So instead of torturing you, we're going to torture her."

Proving Buzzer's point, Monkeywrench took his knife making a shallow cut on Lady Jaye's right cheek. "It's simple, just tell us what the GPS armament codes for the Flagg are going to be this week. Then we let you go." Buzzer shrugged. "If not, Monkeywrench."

Buzzer nodded in the Dreadnock holding Jaye direction. With a smile, her captor took another slice of her face. Flint tasted bile in his throat as her captor slid his tongue up the wound he had created on his girl's face.

Lady Jaye tried to struggle against the bigger man but was unsuccessful in her attempt. Her action caused the duo to laugh. When she realized she was just wasting energy; she calmed herself. Her green eyes attracted his silently telling him what she had planned. Inwardly, the Warrant Officer groaned. Working with the petite Joe for over four years, he knew where her thoughts were going: whatever her plan things were not going to end pretty for either party.

Had the Dreadnocks gone through the same training as the Joe team, they would know torture was not about cruelty. It's an art form. A good interrogator knew how far to go to get their subject to break, without getting the wrong information. No matter what there is always one rule: Do not get emotional. Anger at your subject will at best create an out of control situation; at worse, allow the subject into getting the upper hand.

Flint knew from the look that they had shared that was what Jaye had planned. The Dreadnock needed her to wail, moan, and scream in pain for his little act to succeed. Instead, he was going to have a 'front row seat' to her flexing those nerves of steel she was famous for. "So what do you say, Flint?" Buzzer leaned in staring at the Joe. "Just a few numbers, odds are they won't even know it's you."

"Buzzer, I just can't take you seriously when your breath stinks as bad as it does." The Joe quipped.

"You think this is funny, Flint?" Monkeywrench yelled. Then in a slow, deliberate movement he dug his knife into Jaye's face dragging it from hairline to jaw. Even though her eyes screamed in pain, she stood motionless, like a statue, her face carved in marble. Every muscle in his body tightened his heart screamed for him to react; but, his brain told him to do that everything she had just endured would be for nothing if he lost control now.

Confusion crossed Monkeywrench's face. The more he tried to analyze what Lady Jaye's end game was, the angrier he got. Out of rage, he took another slice that landed across the bridge of her nose, then another in the opposite direction. The biker dragged her closer to Flint. The Warrant Officer watched the anger in Lady Jaye's eyes as Monkeywrench held her face so close to his that her blood dripped on the Warrant Officer's cheek.

The Dreadnock roared with frustration. In a violent move, Monkeywrench dragged Jaye by her hair backward across the room. Flint's heart jumped into in his throat, fear that Monkeywrench would try the worse way imaginable to get superiority over the small Joe.

The deranged Dreadnock went a route that surprised even the sadistic Buzzer. After slamming her face into the side of the Impala, he pulled the car's lighter out and in one smooth movement he plunged it into Lady Jaye's eye.

Flint found his heart shattering, as an unholy scream escaped from Lady Jaye's lips. Monkeywrench pulled the lighter out after it had cooled wiping it off on his pants leg. He snarled when he realized that she was done screaming and her good green eye was just glaring at him. "That the best you got?" she challenged.

Monkeywrench wrapped his hand around her neck, picking her off the floor. The biker just stared at Jaye for a moment. Then in disgust, he threw her across the room like a rag doll. For a brief moment, Flint found himself praying that the bastard did not break her neck. Relief flooded through him when she managed to pull herself up to her knees smiling at the biker.

The Dreadnock screamed at Jaye in rage, turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Silence fell over the room as they listen to his boots echoing on the floor above them. Buzzer, speechless, walked over to Lady Jaye picked her up and placed her at Flint's feet on the floor. Flint could tell, that the turn of events had even disturbed the blonde man.

Moments later, Zarana's angry voices could be heard screaming. Lady Jaye's plan had worked. If anyone knew how to manipulate anarchy, it was her. Flint just wondered at what cost.

"I think I made him a little angry." A fit of coughing overtook her, no doubt from the abuse to her neck. Once she had calmed, she asked, "How are you?"

"I'm good, Jaye." To prove his point, he flexed against his bonds, which caused a shockwave of pain to surge through his body.

The look on her face told him she knew that he was lying. Though, it seemed she was going to let him have that one. If it was possible, he just fell in love with her all over again. The jolt of a slamming door and angry voices approaching brought his mind back to the present. "They are coming back.

Flint replied, "I know." He tried to get a clear picture of the situation. His thoughts would not cooperate; they were muddy and unfocused. He wondered just how much damage did the sledgehammer do to his leg? Lady Jaye picked up on his lack of concentration and help by offering her "go-to-plan" for every problem. "Let's just start shooting until we get a kick ass plan, top it off with a few explosions." she interrupted his thoughts.

"We have no guns," he pointed out.

She pouted slightly at him for bringing up the obvious. Before, she could retort Zarana entered the room followed by the Monkeywrench, Buzzer, and Ripper.

Zarana kneeled next to Lady Jaye examining her battered face she swore. "We were told only minimal damage." She growled, "Does this look minimal?"

"Oy, I don't see what the big deal. We were told to do 'what we needed' to get the information." Monkeywrench shrugged.

"You were to do whatever was necessary to Flint, not to Lady Jaye," Zarana screamed. "Destro will not approve payment with her like this. Please tell me you got the codes."

"Monkeywrench lost his cool," Buzzer said throwing the other man under the proverbial bus.

"She's a bitch." Monkeywrench pointed to Lady Jaye.

Zarana sighed, "Buzzer, call Zartan and apprise my brother of this situation." She then turned to square off with Monkeywrench. It was then that Flint saw Jaye's face screw up in pain; the expression was so fast it left him wondering.

The wrath of Zarana was so evident that Ripper began to slowly back away to stay clear of her violence. The Dreadnock was so intent on the goings on in front of him that he never realized he was crossing into Lady Jaye's path. In a flash, her hands were free, Flint could only surmise the flash of pain he had seen on her face, just moments ago, was from her breaking her thumb to allow her too free her hands from their bonds.

Jaye was on her feet; jumping on the bigger man's back, she executed a perfect sleeper hold. It wasn't until he was down on his knees that Monkeywrench and Zarana were aware of her being free. By then she was standing holding both a bowie knife and Ripper's Taurus PT.

Her first victim was Monkeywrench; she elbowed him in the nose, sending him back a few steps. Sinking down into a low fighting stance, as he moved forward to attack, she countered with a slash of the knife making a long deep cut on his stomach. The Dreadnock made the mistake of trying to continue his attack on her; she retaliated by plunging the knife into his femoral artery, not far from him family jewels. With the man unbalanced, Jaye finished him off with a high crescent kick to the head.

Zarana came rushing towards her, but the minute Lady Jaye's foot spun to face her second attacker she was pulling the trigger of the Taurus, the punk rocker went down, making a grab for her own sidearm, another trigger squeeze, the pink haired woman was clutching her shoulder. "You're lucky Zarana." Lady Jaye spits on the floor. Flint tensed as the two women glared at each other. For a fleeting moment, he thought that Jaye would kill her.

"Why?" she hissed out.

"Because you're not worth killing." With that, Lady Jaye slammed the butt of the pistol into the woman's face knocking her out.

Flint panicked when Jaye turned holding her head from what looked like a wave nausea. "Lil' Bit?" Not caring that he was using the pet name he called her when they were off duty.

Terror squeezed at his heart watching her stare blankly at him for a moment. A sigh of relief escaped his lips; when her face broke into a wide grin shaking off the queasiness, she raced toward him.

Together they made quick work of his bonds. The problem was getting him standing; reality set in when the slightest weight on the appendage caused him to fall to his knees. Lady Jaye who was just as worn out as he was pushed all her exhaustion aside. With sheer determination, she lifted him up. Once she got him steady, they used a technique similar to what one in a three-legged race would they were able to make decent time to the Impala.

Opening the door, he slid in the back seat, looking at his leg the bottom of his jeans he swore they were almost black from the blood that had soaked through. He fought the urge to pull the leg back and look at the damage. Instead, he focused on her climbing into the front seat, exposing wires close to the ignition: one, two, three taps, nothing. "Maybe I should drive." He made light of the situation.

"No can do, Flint, it's a clutch." The fourth time was the charm, the throaty engine of the car roared to life. Just in time, Buzzer burst through the door opening fire on them. Breaking the window, Jaye took aim and fired. The Dreadnock took cover allowing her to take the opportunity to throw the car in reverse and put her foot in the gas.

The sound of crushing metal and glass had Flint wondering if the car had been demolished in their attempt for freedom; instead, it rocked on its chassis. He watched her upshift and bark of tires she was moving them forward. Like a bat out of hell, she was racing down a dirt road. His last coherent thought: never, ever was Lady Jaye borrowing his car.


	2. Chapter 2

The full moon cast a bright light turning the scenery around Lady Jaye into an ethereal blue light. The glow allowed her to drive her recently acquired Impala without the need of headlights. She looked down at the needle on the speedometer reading fifty miles per hour. Even thought she was a highly trained driver, she felt she was pushing her abilities past their breaking point. One false move, one over correction and she could smash into one of the old oak trees that lined the road.

Jaye looked into her rearview mirror; she was grateful, that since they had left the crumbling chopshop, there had not been headlights behind her. Her hope was the Dreadnocks she had dispatched earlier were the only ones at that particular site. Leaving her with the most pressing problem; judging by the landscape she was passing, they could be anywhere on the East Coast.

With a flick of the switch she turned on the radio, Jaye hoped something on the airwaves would give her a clue of her whereabouts. When the last verse of Chase Rice's "Look at My Truck" faded, a late night DJ came on "It's a Saturday morning, four o'clock and you're listening to 100.9 the Bull." She felt a sense of euphoria fill her; the radio station was a favorite of many Joes, which meant she was still in Georgia.

There was a GPS tracker placed inside the heel of her boot, though someone at the PIT had to turn it on. The worse part, she and Flint had made a show of leaving, on their way out she had stopped to say good night to Scarlett and Duke. Then as she promised to have pancakes with her Uncle Simon in the morning, Flint had begun to drag her out of the bar to everyone's delight, even hers.

No one would think anything of her bike sitting on the sidewalk of the bar. They would assume that he drove home in his Silverado which was sitting outside the motor pool with a busted water pump. She cursed the fact that they went to Izzy's straight from work, not going back to his place. Everyone at Izzy's would know that they were in trouble if his 1962 Shelby Cobra 427 was left unattended.

It would be another five hours; before, her Simon even thought to worry about her. So if she tried to find a place to bunker down it could be hours before either one of them received medical attention. The groans coming from the back seat told her that Flint needed help, yesterday.

As she drove through the country back road, she realized that nothing looked familiar. There were no road signs except the occasional driveway marker with some wacky name like Live Hard, Die Fast Lane and Skip to my Lou Trail.

Lady Jaye tried to plan out their next step in her head, but the throbbing in her face made it difficult to think. Banging her fist on the steering wheel, she let out a scream of exasperation. Flint rewarded her with a loud moan. She opened her mouth to tell his unconscious form if he had any bright ideas to speak up now when a worn out asphalt road came into view.

As Jaye put more miles between her and the Dreadnocks, her confidence began to grow. With trepidation, she adjusted the rearview mirror to check Flint. It was then she caught a glimpse of herself.

Jaye was not a girl who spent hours on her appearance, a little eyeliner, mascara, and lip-gloss and she was out the door. The reality, she couldn't compete with Cover Girl's Rebecca-Romjin-supermodel-looks, and her chocolate beach waved hair paled in comparison with Scarlett's amazing red hair. She was the one with the curves, which was in her mind, was a polite way of saying, that her ass and boobs were a little more well endowed than the other women on the team. Combine those curves with bright green eyes and a constant smile; she was as Flint put it the Jennifer-Love-Hewett-one.

She didn't look like Ms. Hewitt at the moment, her right eye was swollen shut, making it impossible to tell how much damage the Dreadnock had caused. If the ripping she felt when Monkeywrench finally pulled the lighter out was any indication she was glad she couldn't. Then there were the slashes; the knife had taken a chunk across her nose a centimeter wide. Running from her ear up to her temple where the bone was visible.

A loud moan from Flint put an end to her pity party. Moving the mirror off her, she noticed that his golden skin was pale and sweaty. Reaching behind her, she touched the leg that they had demolished. She groaned just touching it had caused the bone of his shin to move and shift. "Come on Flint, wake up!" He rewarded her effort with a grunt of pain.

She was about to decide to pull over and try some rudimentary first aid on Flint; when a road sign for Highway 575 shone like a lighthouse's beacon in the night.

Merging on to the highway, she felt some of the tension leave her body. Flint seemed to have quieted, at the moment, she was glad that she didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She let the Impala's engine go wide open; she felt hysterical giggle bubble at the thought of getting a speeding ticket in a 'borrowed' car, with a stolen gun, and the Joe team's executive officer unconscious in the backseat. There had to be a joke in there somewhere.

It was when her giggle turned into full-blown laughter that she spotted three military Humvees running northbound passing her. Looking back, she watched the as the lead Humvee cut through the median to make a U-turn. Praying that the Joe team had noticed something amiss at Izzy's and turned on her GPS, she followed suit spinning the Impala on the median.

Jaye knew that the odds were this was not a trap. Experience had taught her thought to put nothing past Cobra, if they could create a whole town to fool a fellow team member into spilling secrets, them stealing a few military Humvees were not out of the realm of possibilities.

She reached into the passenger seat and felt the weight of Ripper's Taurus in her hand. In a smooth motion, she dropped the magazine, examining the twenty round container. She mentally went over the firefight earlier in the garage. One round in the chamber, two in Zarana, three when Buzzer came down the stairs, that left her fourteen rounds.

She closed her eye, taking a slow cleansing breath, she pulled out what little fight she had left. Trap or not, it was only minutes before her adrenaline would run out and her body would fail. She slammed the magazine back into the 9mm, exiting the car praying that it was the Joe team.

The shine of the Humvees' headlights causes her eye, accustom to being in the dark, to hurt. The people in front of her turned to black blobs. Instinctively she reached behind her back placing her hand on the grip of her stolen pistol. "Oh my god, Lady Jaye!" in an unmistakable southern twang stopped her from pulling her weapon.

Shanna O'Hara, code-named Scarlett, Lady Jaye's best friend, came running up strangling her in a hug. Directly behind her was the team's First Sergeant Duke, he stopped and took in her face in his hands tilting it gingerly to get a better look in the light. He didn't bother to hide the sharp intake of air at the sight of the damage to her face. "Flint?" he asked afraid of the answer: if Cobra had done this to her, what of the Warrant Officer who was not standing next to her?

"He's in bad shape, Duke. His leg is gone." Lady Jaye remembered the struggle to get him standing. The thought of him falling to him knee and the look on his face it was impossible to hide it sorrow laced her voice. "I have him in the back seat."

Duke nodded in understanding, "Lifeline on my six; Lieutenant Falcon check out Jaye here!" She watched as the two men passed her and the Lieutenant slid to a stop in front of her with his aid bag.

Falcon pushed her closer toward the light that the Humvee created. He threw his aid bag on the hood of the vehicle. Warily, she watched as he put on a pair of medical gloves. "I'm fine, go help them with Flint."

"Humor Me." He was giving her a choice instead of pulling rank; she could do it the easy way or the officer's way.

She went to argue with him; not caring that he outranked her, but her knees buckled. The adrenaline rush had left her, her injuries had begun to catch up with her, and she was crashing to the ground.

Before Lady Jaye hit the earth, Falcon caught her using his lightning quick reflexes. "Whoa!" He settled her down on the grass, going to his med bag. The sounds of retching caused them both to still, Falcon waited until he heard gulping breaths and more orders from Lifeline before continuing what he was working on. "Don't worry, he is in good hands," he reassured her as he pulled out different sizes of bandages and gauze.

"What, if I'm good, you'll give me a lollipop?" He smiled at her quip but chose not to comment. Instead, he pulled out an IV bag.

Falcon roared with laughter at her expression, "I am not going to torture you with an IV, Half-stack." He taunted her. "You will drink this bottle of water I have in my bag after I'm done patching you up." He took one more look at her face and sighed. He quickly placed bandages on the worst of the cuts that were still oozing.

"Now the fun part," Falcon took a better look at her damaged eye. She panicked when he said that imagine all the ways he could torture her with what he had placed between them. "Don't worry. All I am doing is covering this eye." He quickly prepped two of everything he would need "Thing is with eye wounds, Jaye. I cover one eye; I have to cover your good one."

It was at that moment that Flint screamed her name, not her code-name her Christian name. "ALISON," Duke swore as the sound of a fist connecting with something solid. "God damn it, Flint. She's over there. Trust us."

She was already trying to get up to get to him. "Jaye!" Falcon warned her placing a hand on her arm.

She was growing frustrated; Flint needed her. They had calmed him for the moment; but, what if he panicked again? She grabbed Falcon's arm, the Lieutenant's deep brown eyes softened with understanding, "Jaye, if you behave, I think we can arrange for you go on the same bus with Flint." He stated as an EMT walked up to them.

The EMT smiled "I think that can be arranged. I have a special seat just for you."

Jaye nodded allowing him to cover her eye, sending her into darkness. She listened to the report Falcon gave to the Medics. "27-year-old female, kidnap victim. Conscious, no AMS. Facial lacerations right side, along with a separation of the eye."

As she sat there, she heard the two medics talk quietly for a brief second. It wasn't long when she felt Falcon and the EMT on either side of her helping her up. The two medics lead her to the back of the ambulance; settling her on a bench seat.

"Lil' Bit?" His voice could be heard moving closer to her. His voice tired beared that staccato tempo that it took when he was worried.

Jaye tilted her head toward the sound of shifting metal "Just stay still, big guy, we're taking you to her." She felt her shoulders stiffen with worry Flint was ornery at best when she got hurt, with him hurt, she was afraid it would be hard to keep him calm.

"I'm okay, baby." She tried to sound bright and cheery, but the sight of her face encased in bandages caused him to growl. She heard what she could only surmise was him struggling to get out of the gurney.

"God Damn it, Flint, Lady Jaye is right there." Duke's voice roared causing her to jump slightly. That started more of a struggle between the First Sergeant and the Warrant Officer. "I swear to God Flint; I will yank her out of here so fast If you don't CALM THE HELL DOWN!" Everything in the ambulance went still. "Now she can't see, I know you want to protect her, I get that, but you can't do it in a rage, you know that."

The clanking became closer almost directly in front of her. She strained her ears to figure out what was going on. Though she could guess some of the noises; others had her at a lost. The only solution was for her to sit very still and not panic.

"Easy, let me help you." Lady Jaye realized the EMT was talking to Flint. "She's blind so no sudden movements or else you might get a shiner." She felt a hand pulling hers out of her lap.

The calloused warmth of Flint's hand engulfed her smaller hand. She felt his fingers closed around hers. Her middle finger traced down a deep scar in the palm, earned when he was twelve, working on his Shelby with his dad.

She loved his hands; she didn't have to see to know where every little scar every imperfection resided. Those battle proved hands could turn around hours later, show her pleasure, take her higher than she had ever been before.

She felt Flint squeeze her hand. After a few moments, she went to move her hand, sure that the angle he held his arm was uncomfortable. As she pulled her hand out of his, he laced his fingers through hers. "I've got you, Lil' Bit." His thumb traced the sensitive skin inside her wrist in a lazy circle. This terror hit her, afraid to let go she clung to his hand. If they held on together as they had proven so many times before, they could do anything.


	3. Chapter 3

The concierge at the Four Seasons of Miami looked up from her desk as she finished making the last of the itinerary changes to a large group of conference goers she couldn't help but smile as an attractive Latino, in a police uniform walked up to her. "Hey baby I have about thirty minutes for my dinner, you got a few to spare?"

Looking down at her watch she smiled, "You, constable, can get about fifteen minutes of my time. Only, if you promise to frisk me."

He laughed showing his dimples and held open the door for her to exit the small desk she worked from. A grin spread on her face as she looked up at him. He winked his hand falling on the small of her back as he lead her towards the Service Elevator. They didn't do this all the time but, since his return from Afghanistan, a month ago, they could not keep their hands off each other.

She was sure like his other deployment things would calm down. Tonight, though, she did have to tell him that, like the other two, in about eight months that the stork would be making a delivery at the Fernandez home. However, at this moment she let her handsome husband lead her to their special little place.

She never did anything too crazy at work; but, her shift didn't end till nine. The police officer took the key card that she was holding with a smile he opened the door to the boiler room leading her in. She smiled up at him; pressing into him she kissed his neck. First, a moan escaped his lips he pressed his hips against hers; then, he stilled. "Baby, listen to everything I say very carefully. Slowly, walk out exactly the way you came."

She knew that voice; she had heard that voice when Maisey, their daughter, had found a new plaything, in the form of a black scorpion, last week. It was the "take-charge-I-am-the-man" voice. He pushed her slightly off him following her out slowly; she began to get scared as he seemed to go into an ICY calm. Once, they were out the door; he looked at her, "I need you to get everyone out of the hotel now!"

"Jose what-"

He cut her off. "Baby there is a bomb in there!"

* * *

When Flint first joined the Joe team, Duke in his infinite wisdom, teamed him up with Lady Jaye. The First Sargent thought that since they both had extensive knowledge of Europe and specialties that complemented each other they would make a great team.

In their first month working together, he found a gray hair. On month two, Jaye had him so angry that they were standing toe to toe, screaming at each other. Not even a month later; he was waking up in a mud covered room holding her in his arms. That night they broke laws in all fifty states; not to mention, a couple from the Uniform Code of Military Justice.

He was always thankful that Hawk disregarded the rules of fraternization. Hawks rationale was, in this day and age, it was hard enough to find a nice person, add meeting someone and wondering in the back of your head could they be out to kill me? Just obey the rules that Hawk had set down: be honest with him, do not be sneaky, obey the rules of public displays of affection while in uniform, and if he ever felt that someone was taking advantage of the relationship, he would bust the guilty party down to Private so fast their head would spin.

Since that night that incurred a thousand-dollar cleaning bill, she had wrapped herself around his heart so tight the thought of her not being in his life scared him to death. The another oddity was he knew things. Not just the look in her eyes like she was going to do something asinine, like run into a firefight without backup. He knew when she was hurt, and he knew seconds before she started screaming that she was having a nightmare.

His eyes opened from a deep sleep, all he had to do was still his body something in the air told him that the world was not right. Lowering his hand to hover over the grip of the .45 that he kept between the mattress and box springs, he waited.

The first scream lets him know that she's having a night terror, it's not an intruder. Then he braced himself for the pattern. The fist is always first; tonight, he didn't move fast enough, that damn ring of her caught him on the temple. He was able to dodge her next onslaught, avoiding her punches by ducking his face close into her back. Reaching out, he grabbed both her arms pulling them close into her body.

The legs came next; she flails them in opposite direction of him. Getting them under control was all about timing and finesse, sliding his right leg under her thrashing legs; he would then take his left leg and throw it on top. It was hard to lock her legs down. Not only was she strong; he was missing a foot, ankle and half of his calf on his left leg. It took him a second, but he finally got them to still.

Remembering the first lesson he learned when the terrors started; he pulled her into his body tight to protect his 'pride and joys'. "Lil' Bit, you're safe." Trying to wake her was impossible, he just spoke the words hoping somewhere she could hear him. "It's just a dream."

Nightmares had plagued her since she was ten. They never affected her in the field; only her first night back in garrison or when she was stressed. The original dream, a horrific memory from her childhood.

Barefoot, running down the country lane outside her childhood home, her youngest brother Jack on her hip. Her cries for help would fall on deaf ears; until a man in uniform would stop her. It was then, to her horror, she would realize she was covered in her parent's blood.

The first day he was released from the hospital her dreams took a terrifying twist. He was sitting on the couch, legs propped up on the coffee table; watching a special on Iwo Jima. He had smiled at the cold beer in his hand, and Lady Jaye curled up next to him using his thigh as a pillow. Her soft snoring enchanting him and he thought except for having lost part of his leg, this moment was perfect. The next thing he knew, he had a terrified fiancée wearing his beer and her elbow had found his crotch.

After the pain had subsided and he was sure that he would be able to father children; he had taken up the task of getting her massive hair washed. He started threatening her with a documentary on the History Channel about Hitler and his drug use if she didn't tell him what she had dreamt of. She had explained that it was the same dream that haunted her, except, that the man in uniform morphed into Monkeywrench and burned her eye out.

At this moment, though, she was calming taking deep sobbing breaths. The rise and fall of her shoulders were a clear sign to him that she was awake. He loosened his grip on her allowing her to turn her body; she buried her face in his chest. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders he held on to her tight, after a few moments, her face finally emerged. Chuckling at her sheepish expression; he let his lips brush against the scar that covered a field of freckles that he had been partial too.

He reached down brushing aside the bangs that covered her right eye. In doing so, he revealed the worst of her scars. They started at her temple moving down to her ear, like the one on the bridge of her noise, it was still angry and red.

Lady Jaye was a left-handed firer, meaning her left eye was dominate, her transition back to the Joe team was a three-week vacation then desk duty until the bridge of her nose had closed up. She did have a bigger blind spot, but a high-tech head up display in her helmet, and an uncanny sense she got when the bad guys tried to attack her, she was back to being in the field full time in under two months.

His return was moving slower. The stitches on the stub took six weeks to heal. A month of physical therapy with a temporary prosthetic was next to learn how to walk, run and other day-to-day activities. Flint then had the fitting for his actual prosthetic, there was where the learning curve began, the muscles of his leg had to learn how to react to the new appendage The progress was slow, but the results were evident. Doc hadn't cleared him for Quick Reaction work yet, but he had been able to go out on intelligence runs with Lady Jaye. He would have liked faster results, but other than that, his life was good.

Especially, when the woman in his arms wiggled slightly; his body began to react. Rubbing the raised scar at her temple with the pad of his thumb, he took delight as her breath hitched in her throat and she arched in his arms. Monkeywrench thought that cutting her face would make her undesirable to him; every scar on her face was proof of her courage, her bravery, memories of what a badass she was, which made him desire her even more.

She reached up, wincing at the mark her ring had made. The diamond solitaire surrounded by a halo of sapphires and rubies, their respective birthstones. It had taken a chunk out of his savings account, but what it represented was worth it. "Will I live?" He asked. Moving her slightly so he was over her.

"I dunno," her voice was breathless with need "you might need first aid."

He smiled as her body was arching closer to his and her breathing was speeding up "Is that what we are calling it?" Dipping his head, he kissed her; nibbling on her lower lip.

She moaned slinking her leg around his waist. On cue, his phone rang; with a groan, he lowered down to his elbows on either side of her head. Flint reached for his phone; he swore when he saw the name of the Joe team's Officer in Charge, or OIC, of Intelligence Major Rick Foxland AKA Fox on the screen.

"It's one in the morning what can you be doing?" The Major then realized what Flint, who lived with his fiancée, could find to do at one in the morning. "Never mind, I don't want to know, Chief. Whatever it is, it will have to wait. We have a situation in Miami. I also need Lady Jaye; I'm sure you will let her know."

He looked down at her, kissing her neck taking delight as she giggled. "I think I can do that," he winked at her moving his fingers down to pull at him of her shirt. "See you in twenty," Hanging up his phone, he looked at her "We have a few minutes," he said grinning. Her response? Her green eye narrowed and she pushed him off her onto the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

"Holy mother, cheese on a cracker, you freaking asshole." Lady Jaye pulled the oxygen mask off her helmet taking deep breaths to get her head to stop swimming.

"Wake up, Lady Jaye." The pilot of the Skystriker XP-14F husky voice echoed in her ears, looking around she realized her shoulder was slammed into the cockpit window as he had them sideways, with the expert precision he pulled the jet into a barrel roll, then pulled out.

"I can't believe you, Flint!" He should be thankful that her javelins were in a container attached to the outside of the Skystriker "I didn't fall asleep." She denied the accusation, yet, there had been a lull in the conversation.

"You were snoring." He pointed out

"I don't snore." She argued.

"It's cute that you snore." He clarified trying to get out of the hole he dug.

She was about to retort; but, touching the side of her mouth she realized she had been drooling. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because you needed it." When it came to her career, Flint never played favorite. As her partner, well, he let her get extra sleep over him, gave her an additional clip of ammo, and always, when he got an older MRE he gave her the phased out Lemon Poppy Seed Cake.

Flint, seven years her senior, was what the Joe team dubbed as Old School. These were the Rangers you dropped in the jungle with nothing but a bowie knife. A week later they emerged having taken out a platoon of Cobras, thinking it was a vacation. In the beginning of their relationship, she felt that those little things were him saying she couldn't take care of herself; she realized quickly, that was his way of saying: I love you.

"Be prepared to sleep with your hand for the next few days." She mumbled in perfect Russian.

"Oh, Jaye you know how well that goes when you threaten me with that..." he replied in equally perfect Russian. She felt the color creep up her face, as memories of that night he referred to played in her head.

The air traffic controller saved her from him going any further with that statement, asking for coordinates and other readings. Flint replied and punched in the settings that he was told to, a click in her ear alerted her he had switched back to internal communications. "So, Jaye, talk to me. What do you know about Fiona Glenanne?"

"Glenanne joined the IRA after her sister died when a British Solider shot into the crowd at a protest. A few years later she became romantically involved with a Michael McBride, or as we know him, Michael Weston; you remember before you worked with him that he was embedded in Ireland. After Card pulled Michael out when his cover was blown, Fi ran into some trouble with a known Cobra associate and bomb maker named Thomas O'Neill. After a quick escape to New York, she made money as a small-time arms dealer. She relocated to Miami when Weston got burned. Oh, her favorite breakfast is a Spanish omelet egg whites only."

"Impressive we have that much intel in our files about her." Flint's tone implied that he thought that Jaye's information came from somewhere other than the team's database.

"If that helps you sleep at night." She couldn't see his face; experience had taught her his blue eyes were flashing with irritation his mouth was drawn down into his frown of frustration.

Jaye grinned to herself when silence filled the cockpit. Instead of questioning her further about her knowledge on Glenn Anne he changed the subject. "Michael Weston is still stuck in Miami; because, of his burn notice?"

"You remember Max Lynstrom?" Lady Jaye recalled the only CIA agent that had not screwed them over.

"Yeah, the only spook I don't hate. Present company excluded." He chuckled, "Max has always been on the up and up." Flint had no love for spies; it was no secret that his career before the Joe team was leading him down the road of Black Operations. When she met him; he was playing the role of hitter; with a spy named Michael Weston and a Navy Seal named Sam Axe. During that time, he had grown a complete disdained for Covert Operations. The irony of the situation, in all of his contempt for spies and the craft of espionage, is that he gave his heart and soul over the Joe team's resident snoop.

"Weston is working officially, unofficially with him." Lady Jaye said as she began her decent protocols. "Apparently, Weston's burn notice was engineered by a secret agency that thought they could be the next Cobra called Management."

"There were some Intel reports that crossed my desk. Fox and Scarlett thought there might be some connection; unfortunately, there was nothing concrete for us to send Chuckles or you to check out." Flint confirmed.

Since Lady Jaye had met Flint and Weston in Kosovo, the two of them had worked with Weston on a few missions before his excommunication from the CIA. Lady Jaye genuinely liked the Miami-born native, he seemed to understand her reasons for doing the job that they did, _'You don't choose a life as a covert operative unless something deeper is going on beneath the surface, something more personal, something harder to explain, and something a lot more painful'_. How right he had been, that something personal for her had been her parent's brutal murder at the hands of Destro.

She was there that day. One minute she was eating lunch listening to her father's booming Scottish brogue; the next, holding Jack in a kitchen full of blood, and shell casings. That does a lot to a child when the police tell you no one could have survived that amount of blood loss. The arms dealer had taken her parent's bodies. Alison Hart-Burnett never received that small piece of closure that comes with the burden of burying one's parents.

At ten years old it's impossible to comprehend, the reasons behind Destro killing them, even for the Joe team it had been a mystery. Her journey began looking for answers. The more answers she found, the more questions she had, and the angrier she got. She carried a bullet in her pocket with Destro's name carved in it, for a long time she would pull it out to remind her why she was fighting.

A year and a half ago, it struck her she just needed to look at the man always standing next to her. She might be put together with duct tape, five-fifty cord, and Gorilla Glue, but thanks to the numbskull pilot in front of her, she was on a different path. Covert Ops no longer held the same appeal. Fortunately, Hawk understood her wishes letting her get back to her old Military Occupational Specialty. He began giving Flint and Jaye more investigative missions and a hand in training Joes in the art of Covert Ops.

His voice over her headset brought her mind to the mission at hand; he was talking to traffic control to get his landing status. "Looks like we are third in line." He said after finishing his conversation with the controller. "So at this point we have nothing."

"No, we have somewhere to start." She said, "we just can't forget the yogurt."

Flint landed with no problem, taxing into a small hanger that served as the Joe team's South Florida Field Office. A green shirt named Thomas ran out helping them offload their gear. As she signed paperwork, made arrangements for refueling, and their hotel arrangements, Flint was signing out the vehicle, and alerting Ft. Colton as to their arrival.

To be a woman in an Elite Anti-Terrorist Unit made up of the Department of Defense's best, you better put your big girl pants on. Lesson one: You cannot be shy, more often than not, you don't get a special changing room because you have boobs. You might get real lucky if you get a shower curtain to pull and dress quickly. Joes who have been on the team for a while are good at averting their eyes. They are more concerned with washing their own ass; not, looking at yours. Newer Joes learn quickly, even glancing at the girls is not a good idea; since faces hurt when they get slammed into lockers.

Lesson Two: There is boy talk; then, there is Joe talk. They want to watch you squirm; they want you to be shocked. These men you're working with want to see you under pressure. It's easier for them to watch you twist under sexual innuendos then break in a firefight. There are only two ways to deal: ignore it or be better at it.

Lesson Three: You can only get away with sleeping with a member of the Joe team's Command if you are the elite of the elite. Not just the best in your specialty, but you better be the best of everything. Your gear better be squared away, your shot grouping better is tight, hell, you better max out your PT test. Most importantly don't use him for your career, they will see right through it, they will eat you up, spit you out; then, run you over with a Sherman tank. If you can make an arrogant, hard as nails, loves to hear himself talk, Warrant Officer mellow out, the troops beg you not to leave him.

At the moment, she was dealing with the first part, the small bathroom would be hard to navigate with just her in it, add a Joe who is five ten, hundred and seventy-five pounds with rock hard abs, things get cramped. With her ass sitting on his shoulder as she tried to get her leg in a pair of jeans and he sprawled on the floor trying to doff a prosthetic leg. Thank god he was her fiancée or things would be a lot more difficult and awkward

"Lady Jaye." He growled, turning slightly he picked her up and sat her on his lap. "Now, put your jeans on." She couldn't help but wiggle slightly. "Jaye," he moaned. He gave her a warning look; if she continued, he would be forced to show her just what her actions were doing to him.

She smiled at him; it was the smile she always flashed when she was trying to be contrite, yet, it just wasn't going to happen. In her mind, this was payback for his flyboy stunt earlier. In retaliation, he bit her playful on the shoulder. She felt him pull her head back; so she was looking up at his face upside down he glared at her. She grinned and kissed the tip of his nose which got a blacker look; giggling she pulled herself up only to receive a resounding slap to the ass.

"I think I can find a locker somewhere." She joked.

He laughed as he removed the white sock like protector from where his leg once was. "Do you know; I have never had the honor." He said with a smile. "Did get a warning glance from Gung-Ho once, though."

"Why do I not doubt that?" She pulled an off the shoulder emerald green shirt over her head.

"'You know I got away with it because I only had eyes for you." He explained. Lady Jaye looked around the room. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for that whale, Flint." It was a joke between the two of them; they had been on a mission in the Mediterranean, trying to escape Cobra they had taken a swim. Flint had to pick that time to flirt with her, horribly, at the time a fish hit him the face. Jokingly she told him to turn it off the charm, afraid he was going to attract a whale. Whenever he got a little too cheesy with his lines, she brought up said whale.

He gave her a lopsided grin, "You see right through me." Those words another line from their past. She felt the blush creep to her cheeks for the second time today, memories of saving a group of scientists, a romantic walk on the beach in monsoon season, them laughing her trying to keep his mud-covered uniform shirt closed as they raced down the hall of their hotel, searching for his clean bed. There were a lot of firsts, then seconds and thirds that night, the memories going back five years still as vibrant as if that night happened yesterday. Looking at him fire danced in his eyes, with a sigh he banked the flames. She knew that it was time to get to business.

After finishing getting dressed; she walked over to the vanity and looked at herself in the mirror. Staring straight on you can barely tell that her right eye was fake. Normal eye movement the glass eye handled well, many people couldn't even tell it was fake during day-to-day interactions; when she cast a fast glance that it's noticeable, it drags slower.

Then there are her scars, the bridge of her nose, at the temple, the smaller ones on her face were easily covered with makeup. They weren't the only ones, a gunshot on her thigh at the femoral artery, a knife wound right below her collar bone, on her left arm was her smallpox vaccination, on the back of her right arm was small pink scars from shrapnel, then the back of her neck was a bullet graze.

Looking over at Flint as he finished dressing and he, like her bared the marks of a soldier, he too had the familiar smallpox scar on his left arm. Deep white crisscross marks etched his back, peppered with a still pink scattering of scars that traveled down his buttocks and legs. His stomach had a scar from a bullet wound, as did his shoulder. His jaw carried one that ran down his neck from a knife fight in Cairo, then a cut on his lip from a bar fight outside of Ft Hood.

Then there was the leg; the damage had been devastating. The surgeon, flown in from Walter Reed, told him that they could try to salvage it; but, he would be out of the Army. They could cut the leg off and if he put the work in he would be able to return. To date, there are 1,645 amputees due to the war on terror; thanks to modern technology, and quick acting Whiskeys, or Combat Medics, more and more could return to active duty.

Flint's prosthetic was a little more complicated than the average soldier's; there was a CO2 piston that took the shock of him jumping out of planes. A lightweight titanium alloy covered the leg; designed to protect the piston from the environment, and any Cobra agent that might attack him in a place they would consider vulnerable. Even at half power, his prosthetic could unleash a painful attack that she had been on the receiving end during the first testing phase. He had felt so guilt-ridden after that sparring session she got foot rubs for a week.

He leaned in for a toe-curling kiss leaving her breathless, giving her a full blow smile that took years off his face as he pulled his head slightly back taking in her dazed look. Handing her back her blush brush he slapped her ass again and picked up his go bag leaving her. It took her a second to regroup and remember she was putting the finishing touches on her makeup.

The bright Miami sunlight made her squint as she walked outside. Flint was at the Camaro packing the trunk with their vests, cases that held their M4s, his M870 modular shotgun, and her Javelins. She placed her bag in the trunk fishing out an extra gold shield "Hawk told me that you are to keep this."

He looked at his "More to add on to me huh?"

"Only if you want to continue working with me." She said with a shrug loading the magazine in her Sig Sauer P226 MK25 though it was the choice for the Navy she preferred it over the Glock 19s.

He turned the gold badge over in his hand; she went to take it back from him, with a scowl he placed it on his belt next to his Heckler & Koch Mark 23. It glinted in the sunlight; it was a relief of their unit patch an eagle's head with a star situated below it. She raised her eyebrow smiling to herself watching him walk to the driver's side, out of habit, she went to jump in the passenger seat before him. "No, Jaye, no."

Very rarely did he use this particular tone with her, normally it was reserved when one of his troops had done something so incredibly stupid even he couldn't believe what he had seen. For a brief second, she had to process what he was moaning about. It dawned on her, "We're in civilian clothes, Flint." She pointed out.

He took a deep breath giving her his most charming smirk. "Breaking you of your enlisted habits is a twenty-four-hour job."

Sliding into the passenger seat after him; she let her thoughts go to a year ago, the Joe team had been going through major restructuring. Hawk had been in a frenzy, sending Joes to schools and new MOS training. The General feared; that an older Joe would wake up with a newer Joe outranking them because of the lack of schools. Lady Jaye wasn't opposed to more training; she thought she would be immune however with a number of duties and missions she ran oh how wrong she had been, so very wrong.

Ft. Benning really wasn't that bad, if you count the mutant fire ants, mosquitos that were the size of her hand, and the stupid Army Combat Uniform or ACUs that she had to wear. Her main complaint, the Velcro and the tabs that you have to keep covered, the pockets never sit right, and the toggles that you constantly have to tuck back in the side pocket.

The training itself she had excelled; the ranges, the PT, the classes, the 18-day mock mission all were a breeze for her. Graduating top of her class, she turned down posts that would put her career on the fast track. She opted to go back home, reporting that Friday for duty, she had differed her three-day vacation for the following week so she and Flint could go to his family home in Kansas, for his parents Fortieth Wedding Anniversary.

That morning, she hated to admit, excitement filled her at what this new chapter in her life had in store for her. Fighting off the fog of a spiked drink later that night; zip ties cut into her wrists as she realized she was laying at Flint's feet. Horror filled her as she watched Buzzer take a sledgehammer to Flint's leg. In the history of the Joe team, Lady Jaye was sure that she was the only Joe to be captured, with the team's Warrant Officer no less on her first full day as an officer.


	5. Chapter 5

Destro's Skiorsky S-76C, made its way across the summer skyline of Atlanta. It was that time between spring and summer, the petals of the dogwood were falling off the trees, leaving everything lush and green. Just twenty miles out side of the city, was the MARS industrial park nestled in a green belt way surrounded by trees overlooking the Chattahoochee river.

Destro scanned through the MARS' Spring Quarter Reports that had just been completed earlier in the day. He had to admit business was good. At one time, you had to start a small war to get these numbers, but, thanks to mass shootings, threats of gun control and zombie, movies his sales were the best they had ever been. Destro's biggest buyer, was the land of consumerism, America. The citizens of the worlds largest superpower were terrified, and he provided them with the one thing that made them feel safe: guns.

"Laird, we are five minutes," the pilot informed him. Unlike other helicopters where you had to scream to be heard, his newest acquisition was the height of luxury. Leather seats with a high-def. entertainment system. The thing he loved most, however, was the sound proofing. He looked at his phone and double checked his itinerary for the day, he always felt more exposed in Atlanta: it was to close to Ft. Colton. Legally the GI Joe team had nothing on him, in the eyes of the law he ran a legit business. His association with Cobra was all legal with the Contracts and inventory control to back it up. He wasn't an idiot. They couldn't get him for terrorism, no. If they did catch him it would be through RICO laws, and he was going to make sure that it would be very hard for them to do that.

As much a he loved the area tried not to come, but, he needed to talk to Congressman Hyde. A government contract for his new M1190 was in the works and the Georgia Congressman's vote was something he needed desperately. The automatic weapon was a roll out in anticipation for a 'smart bullet' that many munitions companies were racing to develop.

He barely felt the touch down on the helicopter pad. Exiting to the Building Roof the noise of Helicopter was deafening, Alasdair McCullen, the Commander of his Grenadier Guards stood at attention. Opening the door as he entered falling behind him, as the door slammed behind them the roar of the helicopter blades quieted.

"Our Agent said that Flint and Lady Jaye made it to Miami." The man said opening another door. "It also seems that the severity of their injuries were greatly exaggerated."

Destro said nothing, he remembered when Zarana had informed him what went down in a dilapidated chop shop in Georgia. Cobra Commander had laughed gleefully at the extent of their injuries, even considering their emotional state that the two Joes would not even be able to rise above their injuries. It seemed that the commander was wrong once again. The two Joes proved yet again, when they work together they were able to accomplish anything. "Or maybe their are more resilien than we anticipated."

"Maybe you are right." His Commander nodded realizing his error.

He opened the last door that entered in to his lush apartments. Today they were a bustle of activity. A willowy blonde named Ealasaid took his Jacket, handed him his IPad and the Wall Street Journal. "Your nine o'clock is here to see you," her soft brogue made him homesick for Scotland, "the Baroness is requesting a credit increase on her order for the new corner shot rifles, and Senator Wilson would like you to have dinner with you next week at the Capital Grill, I scheduled him tentatively for Tuesday, you present your new plans for the M1190 the next day to the House Review."

"Let me guess dinner will be my treat?" He said sarcastically.

Ealasaid cocked her eyebrow, but said nothing to the remark. Wilson's vote was needed for his contract. That meant a ten-thousand-dollar dinner. If he succeeded in winning a multimillion dollar contract then he would play the game.

"The New Orleans mission was a bust." She continued. "Though Cobra's troops are reporting that the Joe agents were having some problems communicating. They were able to stabilize the 3rd ward, and push Cobra out."

He chewed on her words, "And the 4th Ward?"

"Though the Joe team has not interfered, control of the French Quarter still seems to be in the hands of Remy LeBeau." She said

"What does out intelligence have on this man?" Destro asked.

"Not much; but, he does seem to know the Dreadnocks are Cobra Mercenaries. He did have an invite to the soiree that the two Joes were at. He was able to unmask Zarana in the end, turning the tide for the Joe agents." She then looked at him, "I don't put much stock in this, but rumors have that LeBeau is head of the Thieves Guild, a secret society of ruffians, that steal for contracts. It is also whispered that he has a voodoo priestess in his pocket."

He nodded at her statement. Opened his IPad and swiped through pictures that their Intelligence had taken. There was a clear picture of the duo, but unlike major players such as Duke, Flint or Stalker he was unsure who the man was, the woman on the other hand. Even he remembered that Sports Illustrated Swim Suit Cover seven years ago. _Cover Girl? I would never have seen that coming Hawk._ "Have the troopers ID the duo?"

"Not as of yet," She shrugged even she knew who the long legged blonde was.

He smiled, the more losses the Commander had, the more weapons he bought from him. "Sit on it, if they haven't figured it by lunch, send it with our afternoon intel Package."

He walked into his office, admiring the décor. He tried to hire local interior designers for all his homes to give them a flavor of the region. Southern charm ruled here, a cypress desk was the focal piece in his cream colored office, with a small conversational area that had blue grey oversized chairs and couches.

Dressed in a charcoal Hugo Boss suit, a lithe Asian man sat in one of those chairs, at the moment he had a small container in his hand shaking it every once and a while. Destro watched as he tapped it at one point, like a child would tap a fish tank to get them to scatter. His appointment looked like any other Japanese business man, but that was a deadly assumption. This was a highly trained assassin in the employ of Cobra Codename Storm Shadow. "I hope this was worth the trouble I went through to get it." Storm Shadow said as he tossed it at him.

Destro didn't even look, he just caught it in the air as it arched towards him. Putting the tablet on his desk he walked towards the window and looked inside. Shaking it like Storm Shadow had he understood the compulsion, the small silver item with its legs curled inward looked like at any moment it would come alive. "Did he put up much of a fight?"

"Monkeywrench? No," he leaned back in the wingback chair, shrugging "he did suffer, greatly, just like you requested."

"Good." Destro smiled under his mask. Revenge is a dish best served cold, the Arms Dealer had left specific instructions about the capture of Flint. The Dreadnocks had gone off Script, capturing along with him, Lady Jaye. Though it was an opportune move, the mishandling of the situation to get codes, it just went to show how little control Zartan and his siblings had on the biker gang. Then there was the matter of honor, though her father had turned his back on the Clan Lady Jaye, was still under his protection, her and her siblings.

"The device was where I thought it was?" he asked placing the container on the desk.

The Asian man's face took a look of disdain. "Right at the base of the skull." He wiped his hands on his legs as if the memory made them bloody again. "It was still blinking with him… dead. I thought it best to take a tire iron to skull, hopefully Zartan will be none the wiser." He looked down at his Invicta dive watch, "ten more minutes, huh?"

"I'm afraid so," Destro wished it was different for the younger Asian man.

"Zartan has a nice foothold in The Big Easy. He does have a problem; the French Quarter has no love for the Dreadnocks." Storm Shadow looked over at Destro, the Scotsman realized that he was talking about the mishandled mission last night. "Hawk, what was he thinking… sending her in with him?" It was a question that he didn't want an answer. In a graceful motion he rose out of the chair, walked over to a decanter sitting on a small cart. "Do you mind?"

If it had been someone else Destro would have been offended, instead he waved at the man to enjoy himself. The amber liquid was a bottle of Royal Brackla 1924, he had been lucky to procure two bottles last year at auction. He watched as Storm Shadow poured two fingers and forgoing the ice, he downed it in one gulp, savoring it on his tongue placing the glass down he took a minute to compose his thoughts. "When is the next time?"

"I don't know, the more I use the serum…" he couldn't finish the thought. "The less it works, making your thoughts and clarity last shorter."

"Do me a favor, wake me while I still have a fighting chance to clear my name." Not all of Cobra's Operatives were there because they wanted to be, Cobra used blackmail, threats of death to your family and, as Tommy Arashikage, found out a combination of all of them, plus mind control.

Destro nodded looking at his watch he noticed there was only thirty seconds left, the two men stood in silence. The transformation was right on cue; the eyes were what gave it away. Pupils become tiny pin pricks. He should take pleasure that he had figured the time correctly, somehow he felt no Joy. "Firefly put that bomb like the Commander wanted. All we have to do it wait." There was a sing song quality to the mans voice, another sign that the Artificial intelligence was online.

He nodded. "Thank you Storm Shadow, Cobra Commander said you should go back to Castle Kildare and await further instruction." With a deep nod the ninja left the room.

Destro chewed over the Commanders newest scheme. Foot falls of the Baroness caused him to put aside those thoughts. "Are you insane?" Her accent-thick-voice brought him to the here and now. She was exquisite, if you put aside her blood thirst, irrational jealousy and general sadism. "If the Commander found out that you held on to the identity of Cover Girl; he will destroy you."

"Do not forget my dear, that I am in the business of war, the more the commander loses, the more he buys from me and the more I spend on you." He taunted her.

"It does not look like you care about money, it looks more like you are protecting that Joe." She bit out. "Lady Jaye is nothing more than a distant relative. Don't forget I found that piece of information out."

He laughed then, "Do not think you discovered something that I did not already now. My linage, where my people reside, are part of my duty as Laird of _my_ clan." He took her face in his hand forcing her chin so she would look at him. "I grow tiresome of this conversation, go plot your schemes elsewhere."

He watched as she looked at him. Her eyes were angry, yet, there seemed to be a hurt there that even surprised him. With an incline of her head she nodded, and all the grace of her station she walked out of the room. Nowadays, guilt was something he had a hard time feeling. He would be lying to himself if he didn't say he felt some at the way he had handled the situation. As much as he enjoyed the Baroness's body, the relationship between them was growing more wearisome, over the simple fact that she was not his wife.

In a bid to gain control of MARS, Cobra had taken his wife from him, his family was used as leverage for the Commanders plot to gain control of the World. The only difference they didn't have to resort to mind control to get him to do their bidding, they just had to threaten his children.

Cobra Commander showed him just what he was capable of when he watched his wife bend to Cobra's will with a replica of what Storm Shadow had brought back. Then he asked him. " If I could do that to your wife what about your children?"mm He spoke their names and asked just what he thought they were doing right now, where they would be? Wouldn't it be a shame, he never had to finish that thought, he submitted to his will, and promised to do his bidding.

Again he examined the container, if he could figure out how this worked. How it took control of the mind, this was a newer design then what he had seen. He knew to try and remove it with what he knew would kill the subject. The Baroness was constantly underfoot he couldn't run tests in his lab.

Flint and Lady Jaye were in Miami, unlike other Joes that would shoot first and ask questions later when it came to him. Flints curiosity was piqued, Destro knew that the Joe was looking into how his ancestors matched up with Lady Jaye's. He was close, just searching way too far back in the Revolutionary War.

Destro was running out of time, the serum that stops the connection to the impulses of the device and the brain, was lasting only hours on his wife. The last time he used it on her he got eight hours. By his calculation, she would only have six hours next time. Pulling out a DVD from his desk he picked up the small container. He would have to reveal more than he'd like; sometimes to win the game you need to sacrifice your queen. If he succeeded, he could finally get out from under of the thumb of the Commander. More importantly he might be able to get his family back.

 _A/N: Okay for years I know that there has been discussion about where GI Joe HQ is in the Cartoon. Breaking this down in my universe… Joe Base Alpha, the original Joe base, is in Ft. Hood, TX, that is where the majority of the armored "division" of the Joe team resides. (IE Cross Country) Ft. Colton is in Marietta, Ga (write what you know) they have taken over the Dobbins Air Force Base renaming it Ft. Colton._

 _Cover Girl is there because she is the NCOIC, Noncommissioned Officer in Charge, of the motor pool at Colton._

 _All of this takes place two years after Cobra-La. I don't know if I said it before but this is in the Marvel Universe world just one with out any superpowers or super events so some characters will show up just no power charged cards, no Steve Rogers Sleeping for fifty years in Ice and yeah Wolverine wont be around he died in the Civil War._

 _Oh an so you guys can hate me even more, just a warning Lady Jaye's MOS before she was a Joe is not going to personnel, sorry guys I liked that she had something different on the one action figure. (Guess what people women saw combat before they voted on it this year Hooah Combat Medics and MPs) Falcon also will not be intel, I had the pleasure of meeting some kick ass Special Forces Combat Medics that were Nurses, read his filecard boys and girls._

 _I'm sorry I just have to give my own Whiskey love to the Green Beret, though I still like Flint More._


	6. Chapter 6

The morning light cast into the room, lending an air of perfection to the sunny Miami morning. Michael Weston pulled Fiona Glenanne closer to him, she moaned as he kissed her tanned shoulder. He was working his way to her spine when an urgent banging on the door, caused them both to still. In an instant, Fiona pulled a Walther PPK from her side of her bed, sliding it under the bed sheet that covered her.

Picking up a pair of pajama bottoms from the floor, Michael began pulling them on as he made his way to answer the door. Once he reached his objective, he looked back over his shoulder waiting for her nod as he swung the door open.

"Michael I have been calling you!" Barging in with out a so much as a 'how do you do?' was his mother, Madeline Weston. He wondered fleetingly if anyone would notice her missing if her killed her, here and now.

Madeline was oblivious to his pained expression as she breezed in. Reaching into her oversized handbag she pulled out a smaller tan bag. With deft fingers she clicked it opened it and pulled out a Morley. He groaned and received a stare down daring him to say something. In a practiced movement she lit it, he held his tongue as she took a deep drag. Thankfully she ignored his naked bedmate placing her side arm back in its hiding place.

"Ma" he started trying to find out what she was doing at his loft at seven thirty in the morning.

Cutting him off she simply stated. "Its all over the news." As if that cryptic comment was the answer to every question in his head.

"Ma." This time the word came out more as him trying to gain some sense of what the hell was going on. Reaching behind her he went to close the door, a large hand stopped him, in walked Sam Axe with a worried look on his face. He wondered if there would ever be a morning that didn't start off like this.

"Morning Mikey, Fi." Sam dismissed the look of irritation on Fiona's face as she pulled covers around her tighter. "Did you tell him?" He asked Madeline.

She didn't bother hiding her annoyance at Sam. "I was trying to," she turned back to Michael. "Its all over the news."

"MA!" He raised his voice trying to get her to give him more information than 'it is on the news'. "Does it look like I have a TV?"

"Who doesn't have a TV?" She said looking around for an ashtray. He walked over to his kitchen area, grabbing a coffee cup and filled it with water holding it out she threw the still smoking butt in and he felt a sense of relief when he heard it sizzle that was squashed when she proceeded to light another Morley.

"Madeline we used the TV for a job last week," Fiona explained in the hopes that Madeline will explain what the dire situation was that had her and Sam barging in the loft this early in the morning.

Before either of them could elaborate the door swung in, and a tall, light-skinned, African-American-Latino Man entered. "Did you tell them Sam?" Michael tired of the revolving door routine, looked outside his door down by his Charger to make sure no one else was coming up the stairs.

"I was trying to get there," Sam said pulling a yogurt out of the fridge, stabbing his spoon in the container.

"TELL ME WHAT?" Michael at this point was filled with frustration that everyone was buzzing around him, all of them were filled with information but none of it was being relayed to him.

"Seems that the Four Seasons had a bomb placed in the boiler room." Sam explained. "According to my buddies at the police department certain words like 'Fiona', and 'signature' were floating around by the FBI EOD specialists."

Michael and Fiona exchanged a look, like a tornado she was out of bed securing the sheet with a tuck; she began working on trying to find something to wear.

"Now wait a minute, missy, before you go off all half cocked." Sam said trying to reason with her. Except reasoning with her when she was worked up hotter than Miami asphalt in the summer afternoon never ended well.

"Half cocked Sam? I am full cocked." She said struggling with pulling her pants on and keeping the sheet from exposing anything she did not want Sam and Jessie to see.

His mother had the common sense to help her, holding the sheet so she could slip into a light blue t-shirt. The feisty Irish woman was so angry that she had to go back and get a matching pair of shoes, twice.

"Listen," Sam held up his hand, he knew this was getting out of control and was looking at Michael to say something, "What my buddy told me was that the FBI had started pulling out leaving just their EOD specialist." At this point he was following her out the door. "Fi, they are bringing in—"

Before he could finish the small Irish woman was down the stairs running into an equally small woman dressed in boot cut jeans, and green off the shoulder top. "the Joe team?" she asked slightly amused.

* * *

Scarlett's codename was taken from one the most infamous Southern Belles in literature. In Margret Mitchell's book Gone with the Wind, Scarlett O'Hara is shrewd and selfish, thinking of herself to survive. Scarlett lies, kills and marries men she doesn't love, all to survive. Scarlett O'Hara is just a small window into the personality of Southern Women in the extreme.

She knew that when she got her code name it wasn't because she was being liken to the Queen 'B' of the Southern Bells. It was more a comment on her southern draw and her last name being O'Hara. Since her first day in the Army, where you go by your last name, everyone added Scarlet thinking it was funny.

Non-Southerners don't realize that being a Sothern Belle is more than the widow that Mitchell wrote. Belles are loyal, they will fight to the death to protect the people that they love. Belles put people at ease, its easier to make a person feel uncomfortable but a genuine smile can go a long way. Belles are not afraid to get dirty, you could be planting a garden or running full tilt in a battle zone, a little mud hasn't killed anyone. The most important part if all, else is forgotten, a Southern Belle almost always cooks with real butter, not the stuff that comes in a tub, Buttercream frosting just doesn't have the same taste otherwise.

At the moment, Scarlet was thinking about cooking with butter, for the past three days all she wanted was biscuits and gravy. Taking a stab of her Chicken Caesar Salad she curled her lip as it tasted like saw dust, this was _not_ biscuits and gravy. Making matters worse she just wanted to take a nap, and this last of her E-Mails had her irritated to no end.

She pulled out the security request that prompted her to reach out to the sender of the message. Pulling it up to reread through it, absently taking another bite of her 'Sawdust' Salad. "Anthony Stark requests security clearance for medical evaluation."

"You know you need a vacation when you start talking to yourself." Looking up in her doorway stood a man standing 6'1", blonde hair, blue eyes and flashing his dimples. He was none other the the team's First Sergeant Conrad "Duke" Hauser. "I started twenty minutes into the sexual harassment briefing. Sent them all to lunch when I had the urge to answer back"

"How is _that_ going?" She watched him take a seat in the chair across from her desk.

"Hawk and I have officially decided to rename it: How Not to Act Like Shipwreck." He reached over and took a crouton off her salad a popped it in his mouth. "He is actually trying to keep score of all the things he does do. So far Shipwreck is beating the PowerPoint."

She laughed and pushed the rest of the Salad in his direction, she watched as shoveled a forkful in his mouth. Just her watching him eat the salad caused her stomach to lurch. "Thanks, I thought I was going to have to eat Sloppy Joes for lunch. The grill in the mess hall is broken, I'm glad Cover Girl wasn't here this morning. She might of killed Chef if she couldn't get her egg white omelet." He took a bite, chewed, then looked at her, "So what the hell happened in New Orleans."

Scarlett was waiting for that question. With Lady Jaye racing to Miami, Fox on route to Washington to apprise Congress of another terrorist attack in Europe and Chuckles running an Operation in Bogota, that left her to answer all questions regarding the mess that Cover Girl and Beachhead caused. "I think that Beachhead and Cover Girl need to work on their communication skills. Though the mission parameters were met, _barely_ , Remy LeBeau had to come to their rescue, as amiable that he has been with the Joe team, we both know that comes with a price."

"We are still waiting for that last price. Not that I am angry with the outcome, I'm just wondering why this mission went sideways _and_ the upside down." He rubbed his face with his hand and sighed.

"The mission righted itself." Scarlet tried to stay positive "We were able to get the third ward back, and push the Dreadnocks in to the 1st and 2nd wards."

"If there hadn't have been a bomb in the basement of a Miami hotel, we would be playing damage control." Duke took another bite of salad, "I told Jaye that it was a bad idea pairing them up."

"Give them time." Scarlett looked at pointedly. "Remember Flint and Lady Jaye when they first started out."

"Scarlett, their bullshit was here in garrison. Plus, it worked itself out." Duke said with a shrug.

"To the tune of a thousand dollars." She muttered under her breath.

"What did you say?" Duke asked. The thousand-dollar hotel cleaning bill had been a debate for five years, the guilty party had never been found.

"Nothing," she lied.

"You know whose room that was." Duke looked at her. "Did the hotel really lose the number or was Flint coving his own ass?"

"Answer me this." She laughed, "Why would Flint incur a thousand-dollar cleaning bill?"

Scarlett knew the answer to that question, she was Flint's fiancées best friend. Though Flint and Duke might not kiss and tell about their respective relationships. She had to admit that juicy gossiping was a flaw of being a Southern Bell, even if she would never tell anyone else about what happened in that hotel room, she knew all about that night. "It's been five years, let it go."

"I will figure it out." He took another bite of the now-his-salad.

She looked at him blinking a few times, with a shake of her head she picked up the security clearance. "What do you know about Project Titan?"

Duke plucked the paper from Scarlett's hand and read it "Anthony Stark is asking for a Security Clearance, for a Medical Evaluation to derive the eligibility of solider candidate for Operation Titan" he turned it over and reread it. "I know nothing about it." His brow creased with a furrow.

"I reached out to his CEO Pepper Potts. We worked together on the Star Gazer Project." She explained.

"Pepper Potts?" He asked. "I know that name somewhere."

Scarlett rolled her eyes. "She gave us the Keurig for a wedding present."

"I thought that was Flint and Lady Jaye." Confusion written on his face.

"No, Flint and Lady Jaye got us the Crystal Decanter and the bottle of Laberdolive Armagnac, Vintage 1942. Falcon proceeded to drink it when he was house sitting for us." She reminded him.

"I was blocking that out for a reason." Duke sighed. Scarlett knew the bottle had been expensive, she had toyed with the idea of having a small get together when they had gotten back from their honeymoon and serving the vintage spirit. Instead Duke's half-brother, who was watching their house, drank the whole thing.

"So where are we with Miami?" Duke changed the subject noticing her ire at the memory.

"Flint checked in not to long ago, they were going to see an old friend from his days in Europe." She shrugged.

Duke knew all about Flint's days in Europe. The Ranger made it on the recruiting radar from a series of top-secret rescue missions. He cemented his position when he helped rescue Lady Jaye after Cobra had found out her identity, killing her handler. While it's true that, Lady Jaye got shot in the leg and almost died, he did get her to a safe zone, the intel was delivered. So two out of three wasn't bad. "So your telling me that Flint and Lady Jaye are reaching out to a burned spy, and a washed up ex-seal that makes Shipwreck look like a choir boy?" Duke gritted out.

"Oh, don't forget the Arms Dealer." Scarlet gave him an impish smile.

"Why does that not surprise me." Duke said getting out of his chair, kissing her absently he mumbled about crazy Lieutenants, and how he had two grey hairs: named Shana 'Scarlett' Hauser and Lady Jaye.


	7. Chapter 7

If Sam Axe went by what the CIA gossipmongers whispered about the woman standing in the middle of Michaels loft, she was one of the best Covert Operatives that America had today. It wasn't that far fetched, he had watched the woman in one-night transform from a European Socialite, to a French prostitute and then to top it all off a Muslim woman working in a market. All the while sifting through intelligence to allow their four-man team to gather key information that saved the Joe team. Sure, she about died in the process; _but hey_ , Sam thought _all in a days work for the insane._

Two years ago the whispers were she left the spy game. Lady Jaye had become a cautionary tale to new agents 'Don't Fall for your Handler'. The Military intelligence agent had been on the fast track; in ten years she could have ruled Langley. Instead, she walked away all for a man. It happens, as much as agents don't want to admit, but to flaunt it and get engaged to the guy that was unheard of. _Spies a bunch of bitchy little girls_.

Though Lady Jaye's presence had him waxing poetic on the catty nature of the CIA, that wasn't what had him intrigued. Reaching for a beer, he unscrewed that top looking at the the man who had walked up behind her. Ranger, Helicopter Pilot, Warrant Officer Dashiell "Dash" Faireborn, Michael and him knew the man from their days running missions in Europe.

Faireborn stood average height, the Ranger sporting an eternal tan that spoke to the Cherokee blood that ran in his veins, with dark brown hair, wide shoulders and blue eyes. It was no wonder that both Madeline and Fi had given him a double take when he walked in behind Lady Jaye offering yogurt.

Sam remembered Faireborn's time in Europe clearly, the Warrant Officer acted more like a caged animal then a Solider. An internal battle waged inside him, anger creeping up to take control of him. Sam couldn't deny as Fairborn took a seat glancing around the loft something in him had changed. Faireborn was relaxed, comfortable on the path his life was taking him. Sam realized as the younger man checked a message on his cell phone that the kid was happy.

Clipping his phone back on his belt he looked Sam in the eye. "Long time no see Axe."

"Figured after that night, you were making supply runs in Antarctica for the penguins." Sam watched an expression cross Faireborn's eyes. Instinctively he pulled Lady Jaye closer to him. As if the memory, the thought of losing this woman, scared the hell out of him.

That night in question, should have ruined Dashiell's career, trying to get Lady Jaye to safety while being chased by identical twins named Tomax and Xamot. Faireborn racked up a laundry list of infractions: two f-bombs on a communication channel, disregarding three direct orders from a General, landing in a no fly zone and then telling Lady Jaye's First Sergeant to go screw himself. Hell, he was surprised Flint hadn't been pulled up in front of a firing squad.

The morning after, Sam and Michael watched The Warrant Officer with new orders in hand stomping out of his CO's office barely containing his rage. Sam figured that the monster he had been fighting finally broke free. Never hearing the name Warrant Officer Dashiell Faireborn in the present tense cinched his thoughts.

Seeing him here settling Lady Jaye to stand between his legs, wrapping his arms around her waist it was so hard for Sam to believe that this was the same man. "Yeah, but I started to use the penguins to try and take over the world." He said with a shrug. Sam smiled, at least Faireborn's oddball sense of humor was still intact.

"No it was his ego, it was beginning to make an island of its own, we figured we needed to bring him on the team or he'd have his own little nation with the penguins worshiping him." Lady Jaye said with a shrug.

Faireborn wasn't the only one that had changed, though Jaye's was more physical. Her face carried painful looking scars, she didn't hide them, wearing them instead as a badges of honor. The glass eye was a high quality, hand painted it was hard to tell that it wasn't real. What gave it away it didn't reflect the ornery that shown in her left eye. Everyone in the room noticed the disfigurement; but, none of them would comment. Just as they wouldn't ask about the slight limp that Faireborn walked with, Sam had seen the same gait when he was in Washington. Though more natural than others, it was a tell tale sign of a prosthetic.

As Sam took a long drink of his beer he had to wonder what that said about their way of life. Normal people collect stamps, soldiers collected scars and injures.

Faireborn was about to answer a question that Jessie had just posed when Michael's entrance caused Faireborn to comment. "Well Weston, being burned agrees with you."

Before Michael could respond, Jessie gushed. "You know I helped out with the Himalayans' rescue mission?" Sam watched Faireborn squeeze Lady Jaye, the action made Sam suppose that yet another time the young woman's life had been in danger. "I mean Michael's crazy, but no where near Joe crazy."

Sam smiled into his beer as he took a drink. "Don't worry Faireborn, when Jessie gets over his fangirl crushing he actually is helpful."

Michael came closer looking at Lady Jaye and Faireborn with a cocked eye brow. Reaching into the Ranger's front shirt pocket he revealed a can of Copenhagen. "Thought you quit, Chief."

"He got bored, when he was on medical leave." Lady Jaye said rolling her eyes heavenward. Dash rocked her side to side in an attempt to keep her quiet, which caused her to giggle, "Told me it was that or him clawing up the walls, he _promised_ he was going to quit when he came back to the team. I'm still waiting."

Faireborn grinned that lop-sided grin of his. "I'm working on it."

"More things change Faireborn?" Sam asked.

Before the younger man could answer, Michael interrupted. "Oh I guess you haven't heard, Sam."

Sam looked at Michael confused beer in mid drink "Heard what?"

"It's not Faireborn anymore." Michael opened his refrigerator pulling out a yogurt, offering it up which Lady Jaye cheerfully pounced on. "Call him Flint."

Flint found Sam's expression amusing as he took the lid from Lady Jaye's yogurt and licked it clean. As operatives in America's side of the war against terror, GI Joe was the best of the best. Young Special Forces Recruits are told stories of Flint when they got 'tucked in at night'. He was an aspiration for many freedom loving 'boys', reminders of why they were there, what you could achieve once the hell of training you were currently in was over.

"Well I hate to bring this conversation back to the problem at hand, but we do have a bomb found in the lobby of a hotel; that someone may or may not being use to frame Fi." Lady Jaye opened her backpack. "Though the Joe team has some of the best analysts working for us, we still have homework" Lady Jaye explained pulling out file folders

The biggest misconception in the world of intelligence is that a Spy's life is one long James bond movie. That spies are constantly on the run in some high tempo mission escaping assassins, dodging bullets and surviving explosions. Saving the world was only the crème filling, that was sandwiched between hours of research, analysis and surveillance.

Sam took a drink of his beer taking the file labeled 'Hotel guests'. He split the list with Jessie who took one look and groaned.

"Jaye your killing me with the post it notes." Flint complained picking one up off the paper he was looking at, trying to find a place to put it, he settled on the back of the page. That's when he noticed that the next page held two more. "I give up."

Flint reached into the backpack that Jaye had produced the files from, he pulled out a package of highlighters. Taking the box, he hit Lady Jaye on the top of the head playfully giving her stink eye, holding the box everyone took one, Flint glared when all was left were the pink ones.

Michael took a seat on the bed next to Fi as they ran through a list of phone numbers that made calls in the area during the time the bomb would have been there. Fi seemed more amused with Lady Jaye's organization then the rest of the crowd. Taking a post-it-note she stuck it on her boyfriend's forehead.

Michael looking around the post in note frowned, glaring at Flint and Lady Jaye "I hate you two."

* * *

Staff Sergeant Kurt "Airtight" Schnurr realized his wife would be happy, a 45-minute drive from South Beach, the Miami FBI office was located in Miramar. Tripwire had already voiced his disappointment that there was not going to be any popping out to the beach to look at bikini clad women while on lunch. Not that Airtight needed bikinis, waiting for him at home was a lacy black secret that his wife was hiding under her dress. As he was on the phone this morning, it took everything in his power not to tell Lady Jaye he'd be there in forty-five minutes instead of thirty.

"All I'm saying is why do the Alpha team always get the cool car and we get the SUV?" Tripwire whining ripped through his thoughts of the kiss his wife bestowed on him as she walked out the door to work.

"Because they got here before us?" Airtight tried to hide his irritation, he didn't mind that Tripwire was late or that they had to take a C130. The aggravation was from the hour that Tripwire left him waiting, was time he could have spent unwrapping his wife from her lace underthings.

SSG Tormod Skoog codenamed Tripwire sensing his mood shut his mouth, The EOD specialist began helping Airtight pull out the cases from the back. Tripwire was the best at what he did, he had seen the man diffuse bombs that were so complicated that if Trip breathed wrong he would blow himself up Kingdome Come. Outside of bomb diffusing the Joe was a wreck; his klutziness was legendary the man had once spilled tomato soup all over General Hawk. So it was no surprise that he had been in a car accident this morning.

This wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, so Airtight knew it was best to let his anger go as they made their way to the tall building that was modern architecture at its finest. Entering the lobby, he watched Tripwire stumble about taking out a woman in a pencil skirt and FBI jacket.

The Guard look at the two of them and Airtight knew the expression well, it was written over most people's faces when they met Tripwire. How the hell is this guy still alive? " _You're_ the GI Joe bomb techs?"

Airtight opened his mouth just in time to hear Tripwire knock over a pin holder. The Guard went to help Tripwire pick up the container which made the Joe knock the pen holder over on the guard's side of the desk. The guard picked it up putting it back on the counter. Grumbling he snatched the pens from Tripwire's hand placing them back in the cup. Then staring at Trip to take a step back.

With a look of irritation, the guard's attention came back to Airtight. The Joe couldn't help but say, "Trip here is the best we got." Airtight wondered if it was wrong to take delight at the guard's incredulous look.

"Sure." Unconvinced the Guard started punching keys, picking up his phone he dialed. "You will need an escort." He motioned for them to wait over to the other side of the room. Still keeping a careful eye on Trip as he talked on the phone.

If Airtight thought it was odd that they needed an escort into the FBI field office, he kept it to himself. Pulling out his phone to apprise Lady Jaye of their arrival, and the need of an escort, he stopped mid dial when he heard a clanking noise. Glancing over his shoulder he groaned to see Tripwire trying to stop a potted plant from falling. He opened his mouth to chastise his partner when a pretty blonde dressed in typical FBI fashion of sensible shoes and power suit, walked out of the elevators.

"Special Agent Kelly" offering her hand. At that moment, a crashing sound could be heard. Airtight face palmed himself when he saw Tripwire holding a few leafs and the pot in a million pieces. SA Kelly sent Tripwire a scathing look, "Trust me he's the best." Airtight placated her.

Following their escort to the labs he was faced with a young man whose nametag read Marcus Riley. To Airtight he looked like every lab tech he had ever worked with. Blonde nondescript with glasses and a boyish quality about him. The only thing that stood out in his mind was a Time Magazine cover the man was using as Desktop wallpaper.

A young woman in riding leathers stood holding her helmet. Simulated dirt and grime was over her face. Chocolate hair in riotous curls cascade down her back, one green eye flashed ornery while the other one was a skull and cross bones, top it all off was an impish smile that she wore. The splash read "Meet the _First_ Women of Special Forces." The Article was about the Joe team's women, how since the conception of the multi-agency task force had used the opposite sex in the field, their successes had allowed women to go to Ranger School today. The Magazine released three different covers with Scarlett, Cover Girl and Lady Jaye respectively on them.

"Do you know her?" The tech motioned to the computer. "The rumor is that she is over the investigation."

"She's the OIC over Investigations. In a manner of speaking, she is over our investigation." Tripwire might be a klutz but he wasn't stupid. Letting the tech know that Lady Jaye was here in Miami could endanger Operational Security, god knows what information the kid was looking for, true he might just be an interested fan, or he could be something more serious.

"Sorry, stupid question, but look at her." He said pointing to the picture.

"You know she's engaged? Tripwire was disconcerted that this tech seemed to be slightly obsessed with his fellow team mate.

"To Flint, right, I mean some of the boards say she's with Beachhead, come on I've heard the rumors about him." He shared a knowing look. "Then there is a whole thread of people saying she's with Snake-Eyes. That's just crazy." Airtight couldn't believe his ears how did this twerp know about Snake Eyes. "Oh don't worry, its just us in the Bureau, on a secure server."

"Could someone please tell me about these Beachhead rumors." Tripwire asked confused as the tech went off to get the deconstructed bomb.

Airtight smiled, "They are the same ones about Flint _and_ Duke."

"Flint _and_ Duke?" Then realization dawned on Tripwire, "Naw, if he was going to go that way I'd see him with Falcon."

"I don't know I've always seen Flint with Snake Eyes, that way he can hear himself rattle on and on all about himself." Airtight snickered.

Though the Executive Officer was well respected and liked on the team, it was no secret that the Warrant Officer liked to hear himself go on. The tendency had gotten much better since him and Lady Jaye became a couple, one look from her and he would close his mouth. Airtight surmised that it was the power of the female glare, his wife had that same expression when he and his son were getting too rowdy playing video games.

The tech returned wheeling in a table covered with the bomb that had been deconstructed by the FBI EOD specialists handed over a clip board for Tripwire and Airtight to sign. "You have a place for us to set up?"

The tech pointed to a clear location for them to set up their gear. Airtight busied himself with connecting their laptop for communication to Headquarters. Lady Jaye had a hunch, but she wanted absolute conformation, meaning the L.T. wanted a second pair of eyes. Just to make sure things were on the up and up.

Right before Airtight turned joined the team, Storm Shadow out of no where turned traitor, the Ninja aided Cobra in hunting down members of GI Joe in the field. During that night five blocks of C4 disappeared that Snake Eyes and Storm Shadow had signed out. In the confusion of that night it surprised Airtight that was all that went missing from inventory. He found it highly unlikely that Cobra would have it, let alone someone keeping it for this long and not using it.

Jaye was like a dog with a bone, pointing out that five years ago she never would have thought Storm Shadow would turn traitor. She had a suspicion, intel had fallen into their lap when it shouldn't of: loose lips at a bar, a mysterious drop that turned to be a recruiting center for Cobra, and now this bomb in a Miami hotel. The was no way they were this lucky.

Looking over at Tripwire he watched the man take two samples of the explosive, one he was to test here, the other he was sending to be tested by another Government lab for a second set of eyes. If Lady Jaye was right, then there was a traitor in Cobra's rank. The problem is it wasn't one of theirs, who ever doing this could be a powerful ally or a powerful new foe.

"You're in luck Airtight." A cheerful voice spoke on the other end of the video monitor breaking into his thoughts. Abby Sciuto, a pretty black haired Goth in pig tails, with a spider web tattoo on her neck appeared on his monitor. How Lady Jaye had met Abby was a mystery to him. The black haired beauty and the OIC were complete opposites on the outside but something told him the two had more in common than they let on. "Gibbs said I can put priority on the C4."

"Thank Gibbs for me Abby." Yet another contact of Jaye's that would bend over backwards for her. It was easy to see why, not to mention Lady Jaye's outgoing personality, he had watched the girl drop everything for someone she considered friend to help them.

"No problem, the pictures you sent me I have my own thoughts, I'll C.C. you the report I'm sending over to Jaye." She smiled typing on her keyboard. "Let me tell you, the story of her friend, Fi is so cool, I mean she could have her own comic book. Bad Girl, Irish Bomber saving the down trodden."

"Oh, Lady Jaye wanted me to tell you that everything is set for next month, something about 'spa day and grenades'?" Airtight had been at a loss at the final text from the Butterbar, the common nickname given to Second Lieutenants due to the gold color of their rank.

Abby seemed to know exactly what 'spa day and grenades' meant, she broke into a wide smile. "Tell her I can't wait!" He watched as a man walked behind her looking at him strangely.

"Who's that?" He asked more out of curiosity as he held a Caf-Pow in his hand.

"None of your business DiNozzo." With that the screen went black and the NCIS crest flashed up.

"Did you see this?" Tripwire asked looking at the mass spectrometer. "This is just from the connectors. It doesn't make sense."

"Right which means Jaye's hunch was right." Airtight hated that yet again he was wrong and one of Lady Jaye's crazy hunches was right. "We still need Abby to double check it, but it seems that Cobra has a saboteur and we have no clue who it is."

* * *

 _A/N: *The Tabaco usage, get over it. The Cherokee get over it. You want to argue Flint with me bring it on. This is my story go write your own. But if you must know it becomes a plot point in a story later (not this one). The NCIS World, Hawaii 5-0, Burn Notice World Those of you Undercover with the Joes Members remember I was a part of a group that would go have coffee for a few hours and talk writing, this was an idea that we started back then. Like I have said these stories literally have been ten years in the making… notes and short stories written on hard drives I am at this point putting them all together and making something you don't like the characterizations you have been forewarned, but chew on this which would you rather have my Flint or the IDW continuity Flint and if you say IDW then just stop reading because you aren't getting him and I don't know if I want you reading my story._


	8. Chapter 8

"No send me a copy of the prelim report." Flint let his eyes rest on Lady Jaye as she talked to the liaison of JAG to the Joe team, Brigadier General Sarah Mackenzie.

At the moment she was trying to get a feel of what the FBI and news outlets were trying to pull. "No, I know, it's a stall tactic," She paused as she listened to the person on the other end. "Well its better to ask for forgiveness." She laughed. "Oh thank Rabb for me, Jack got his recommendation to the Citadel, he is over the moon." She smiled again. "Well, I know we will be in Washington next month for the planning stage of the DOD War Games. We would love to have dinner with you and Rabb, ma'am. I look forward to it."

Flint watched her hang up the phone, he didn't comment on her accepting a dinner invitation from the General. The Marine and her husband were a window, in what he hoped, they'd be like ten years from now. Going to dinner with them wasn't a stuffy restaurant in uniforms playing the chess game of Washington policy; its it a night in a BBQ joint talking about glory days of football and wedding plans.

"What I don't understand is how the press got Fi's name." Jessie asked.

"Its an election year, every agency is clamoring to close high profile cases. If that means fudging a few prelim reports and dragging a know IRA operative through the mud in the press," Jaye shrugged rubbing at her scar. "This is pure politics. If it looks like the Joe team can't control our tongues, the FBI hopes congress will throw more money their way and close our access to investigations. They are playing dirty pool." She said.

"General Hawk doesn't endorse such tactics," Flint explained. "at the end of the day, I'd rather have told the truth than play a shadow game."

"It looks like its one hell of a shadow game." Jaye said looking at the report General 'Mac' had just sent over.

Flint looked over her shoulder reading the highlighted portion of the report. One sentence summed up what the FBI was trying to pull, the timer was similar to ones Fi used while she was with the IRA. What the FBI failed to mention to the press the report also named other bombers. Taking the tablet from her he pressed on a link to pictures of the other suspects. Two photos were instantly recognizable: a beautiful red head name Heather McKinney an IRA sympathizer and a Blonde tattooed man with steal grey eyes and a cheesy grin name Christian Forrester with ties to a Militia group called New Order. He knew them better as Lady Jaye and Snake Eyes.

Heather McKinney was the cover Jaye was using when Flint met her. When a fellow member of the Joe team turned traitor, she had become trapped in Kosovo. The Joe team was undermanned putting out fires figuralitively and literally across the globe; the anti-terrorist unit was franticly tapping on other agencies to help them pull members out of the field.

Five years ago, Flint had been in Europe, along with Sam and Michael, receiving a call to pick her up. He had thought that it would be a mundane Job of 'delivering the mail' from point A to point B. The mission from the start was FUBAR. He raced along side an acid tongue green eyed beauty who had given him no quarter, by the end of the mission her long hair had been cut off and she had been shot in the leg bleeding out on his Blackhawk's floor.

The twenty-two-year-old Lady Jaye was just starting out in life, as Michael and Sam worked franticly to try and stop her bleeding she was quiet. Her green eyes were focused out the doors of his helicopter on the the night sky turning red as the sun came up. The girl was fearless in the face of death, not screaming or railing, but quietly preparing for her maker praying in a language he didn't know. When Michael alluded that she spoke Gaelic, the stubborn little creature made sure they all knew it was Scotch Gaelic. That was when he was head over heels in love with her.

The result? He was eating dirt a week later; he had been knocked to the ground by a Five-foot-three injured Lady Jaye when he had the audacity to ask if she was the team's mascot. It was worth it to watch the sway of her ass undetected as she walked away. As he spit-out sand and grit Flint knew in his heart he wanted her in his life forever, it was just trying to get his head to agree to it.

The Warrant Officer saw the Joe team as a second chance, a place to shed his anger. At the time she was a Specialist off limits to a Chief Warrant or Commissioned Officer. He thought he would be satisfied with the flirtatious banter and friendship that she offered. Every time she stirred feelings that were more of a romantic nature he shoved them down. It wasn't long that his want turned to need. The feelings were harder to control then the anger he fought, his desire for her raged through him like a fever. He would rationalize things like an addict. Just a hug, she had almost died. Just stand next to her a little closer then necessary, she looked tired. He would get his act together tomorrow, tomorrow never came.

In Hawaii it all came to head, one minute she was taking her boots off to wade in tropical waters, the next moment he was pushing her into her hotel room, both of have covered in mud. His thought as he kissed her was how did she tasted like cinnamon and sunshine. Waking up the next morning with her in his arms he realized his second chance wasn't the Joe team, it was her. The chance to save the world once a week and twice on Saturdays was the icing.

"These guys have no clue who placed the bomb." Jaye's growl brought him to the problem at hand. "They just threw Fi to the wolves because she would make the best headlines, and make us look incompetent. I say we start shooting…" Jaye started.

"Till we come up with a kick ass plan?" He couldn't help but send her a look. "Your on you own. I for one do not want to be court martialed this week, I have plans."

"I don't know, that plan has a certain appeal." Fiona Glenanne said leaning back on her elbows on Michaels bed. Since dropping in on Michael, the small Irish woman had aroused his curiosity. He knew from experience around strangers Lady Jaye was hesitant and protective of herself. Once she has decided she can trust you, she warms up you. When that happens you find she is quick to smile, witty, and loyal.

The ease in which Lady Jaye talked to Fiona, he knew the older woman had proven to be a friend. Looking back on the many missions that she might have run into the arms dealer he was drawing a blank. Lady Jaye made a career of dodging questions and being discreet. Though she never lied to him, things that directly pertain to their relationship she openly told him. There was also a 'need to know' aspect of her past, a period of time where she had to shut him out of, even, if she desperately wanted him to know the truth.

He had found if he asked direct questions, in a promise to never lie to him, she would answer them to the best of her ability. He just needed to know where to draw the line as far as the depth of questions went. "So how did the two of you meet?"

"Three years ago, when the Baroness shot you in Paris. I got bored with you gone on medical leave. The FBI needed someone to infiltrate a human trafficking ring in New York," Lady Jaye shrugged, "our paths crossed there."

Casting a look in Michaels direction they both knew Lady Jaye was being vague. "So how many things did you two blow up?" Michael wondered.

The two women shared a look and started counting off on their fingers, one would remember something, share it with the other, then go back to counting. Taking in account Lady Jaye's sense of humor, he was uncertain if they were messing with Michael and him or being serious. Flint held his hand up, "never mind, I really don't want to know."

"I am really wondering if this is a good idea having the two of them work together." Sam groaned taking a drink of his beer. "They might blow up Miami before we find the bad guys."

"How do you know that it's not on my to-do list?" Lady Jaye smiled. "Right between cleaning my M4 and picking up my dry cleaning." Sam cast a look in her direction actually wondering if she was serious, to everyone's enjoyment he shut up.

"I think I know what Cobra is after." Michael said looking at the tablet he was holding.

"Which is?" Jessie looking relieved to have a break from going through the numerous names he was working on.

"Her name is Ayana Omehia. She is a speaker for the Invisible children, the Four Season is having a fundraiser in two nights." Michael read as others looked at a picture of a smiling ebony skinned woman.

"Invisible Children?" Jessie had never heard of the group.

"It's a charity that helps rescue kidnapped children escape Warlord Kayne's Army in Uganda. I have a couple of battle buddies that are involved in the project since they left the Army." Flint explained. "I've given tactical advice a couple of times. Wish I could do more."

"So this is about blood diamonds." Michael let out a low whistle.

"Blood diamonds for arms and personnel." Jessie added "Let me guess; a deal went bad?"

"Cobra is trying to send a message to Kayne." Lady Jaye looked at them. "Its enough to make a precedent, when the bigger attack happens the press can put two and two together and lay the blame at Kayne's feet."

Flint swore looking at them his eyes troubled. "It gets worse; the African Children's Choir will be preforming."

"What better message to send to America? 'Look how bad Kayne is killing innocent children'." Sam sighed. "It's a media shit storm."

"We have to stop them from having the benefit." Fiona looked at them.

"Then what? They hit a bus shuttling them to the airport? How about their plane going home? Once they get back to Uganda, there is more than one choir, what if they hit the practice hall instead of thirty children, they kill ninety. Cobra just wants the headline to bring Kayne in focus and move Congress in action to do something against him." Lady Jaye had seen this with the terrorist organization time and time again.

Flint's looked turned black "The problem is this administration is turning a blind eye to the problem, they don't see what Kayne doing as an impact on the United States, even going as far as saying organizations like Invisible Children are exaggerating their claims of the amount of Children taken."

"But its an election year, if Cobra can get Congress to start a conversation maybe a new administration will finish it." FI shrugged as everyone looked at her with surprise. "I might not be able to vote; but, I keep up with current events."

"We need to get to that hotel, who is to say that they don't have other surprises in store for them." Jaye looked at them. "Where are the Children staying?"

"The Darabont hotel?" Sam read in the Article about the children's arrival. "That's easy I have 'in'."

"You have an 'in' at the Darabont." Jaye picked up the article. "One doesn't just say I have an in at the Darabont, Sam. Elsa Darabont's hotels make Ritz-Carton look like Super 8." She realized every one was looking at her. "What? I like to travel."

Flint smiled at Sam. "Okay big guy take Jessie, use that silver tongue, and get us access to protecting those children at the hotel."

"I dunno, Flint that seems to be a tall order." He said smirking. "But since Elsa is my 'in' I think it can be arranged."

"How?" Jaye wondered how Sam Axe in his Hawaiian shirts could get someone like Elsa.

"Trust me you don't want to know." Michael shook his head just scared at the thought.

"Just don't go there Jaye," Flint turned her conversation to the two women, "Fiona and Lady Jaye go check out the hotel where the bomb was, maybe we can get a clue about load bearing walls or something. It's a long shot, but that's what you do best Jaye making sense of the long shots."

"You really want miracles from us today don't you Flint?" Lady Jaye moaned.

Flint ignored her last comment. "Well. I think we have a start," Flint propped his elbow on Jaye's shoulder looking at her, "the rest we'll play by ear, until we come up with a kick ass plan."


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: One, let me reiterate this is based on the Cartoon. If you are a Die hard SE/S fan stop reading now. There is no SE/S in this. There will be no hinting at SE/S. Yes, to answer a few questions I was Nasty Girl, raised and still living life as an East Cobb snob. Didn't know there were so many Georgia Peps out here._

Half a mile from Fort Colton main gate, you see a white washed, two story brick building with a wide window under an awning that is blue, red, and white striped. There hangs a Pabst's Blue Ribbon sign in non-descript lettering that reads "Mabry's Bar". This is not Mabry's Bar; Mabry's been gone since 1984. Today though, when you open the door and walk under the script that says 'Home of the 54th where all are welcomed and the sheep are nervous'; you are received to one half roadhouse, one half grill. This was Izzy's.

Owned and Operated by Simon Lagos, a reserve Joe code named Raven. He had come by the place when he inherited raising his sister and brother-in-law's children after they were brutally murdered by Destro. The place became not only a haven, but a second home for many members of the Joe team. For ex-supermodel Courtney "Cover Girl" Krieger this was where she went when the mess hall was serving crap, a beer was needed to relax when the adrenalin of a fire fight had caused her to feel more hopped up than a rabbit on a trampoline or the thoughts in her head were going to a place she didn't want to think about and needed good friends for a distraction.

Today, she just needed to vent. Letting her eyes adjust to the dark interior she noticed how packed the place was. Soldiers taking advantage of an hour and half lunch break, white collar workers from a business park down the street mixed with mechanics and sales associates from the various car dealers that ran up and down Cobb Parkway. What really made her know that she was in the right place was the smell of Izzy's Whiskey Based Stew. It came in two styles; Irish with lamb or Scottish with beef, served with a sourdough bread from a local Australian Bakery on the Marietta Square. The salty aromas called to her, a poignant reminder of home.

At the moment her eyes were scanning for Bailey. She found her in the middle of a conversation with a group of soldiers sitting at the table behind her. Dusty was telling the spunky blonde a story about him being stuck in a culvert with Tunnel Rat while evading a squad of Vipers. When they had chosen the spot to hide they hadn't realized they were sharing the space with a raccoon. The ornery creature had taken to crawling over the two of them. Afraid they would be noticed with it playful barking, they gave up Tunnel Rat's brand new, very shiny three-hundred-dollar dive watch. A pouting Tunnel Rat was swearing the creature was laughing as it ran away with its treasure.

Having heard the story two days ago, Cover Girl didn't feel bad by interrupting the two men with a sigh as she slipped into the seat across from Bailey. The Tanker let her head fall on the table with a bang. Bailey turned looking over her shoulder at her friend with concern, Cover Girl was not known to use dramatics to get her point across. The veterinarian found herself putting her hands on her friend's head in an attempt to still her as she continued to hit her forehead on the wood several more times. "Okay so last night was really bad?"

Cover Girl looked up to see concern washed on her friends face. When Courtney first joined the team she never imagined that she would have close female friends. As a model it was hard to trust anyone she worked with, ultimately you were going up against that person for contracts that could be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. One minute you and your 'besties' are shopping in Manhattan together, the next minute, one of you is putting a laxative in the others girls mineral water just so you can wear a particular dress on the runway.

Yet, six years later she found herself with, not only one friend; but, a core group of female friends including: Scarlet, a counter intelligence expert; a Javelin throwing, motorcycle-riding Lady Jaye; the martial-artist-bad-luck-charm Jinx; add Joe reservist, Combat Medic Amber 'IV' Rush; and the only civilian of the group Bailey Hart-Burnett, Lady Jaye's little sister slash Veterinarian.

"Damn Beachhead. Why couldn't he just realize that I know what I'm doing?" Cover Girl joined the Army and earned her position with the Joe team as a 19 kilo or an Armor Crewman. She was damn good at her job; otherwise she wouldn't be a member of the Joe team. Courtney just never thought she would end up on the 'intelligence' side of the fence. She took orders from command that got their information from intelligence. It was easy, simple. The more Lady Jaye got pushed into command responsibilities, the more Cover Girl found herself being pushed into Covert Ops. Nonetheless, there was something exhilarating about being someone else, even if it's for night.

Under the circumstances she thought she was doing a pretty damn good job since she had been "volun-told" into the role. Unfortunately, she was not prepared to work with Beachhead. The Joe had come from training spies. At the start of the mission she was expecting the same behavior that Chuckles or Lady Jaye displayed, when playing the role of Babysitter, or handler. They were voices in her ear, telling her pertinent information only when needed. Allowing her to move unimpeded through her mission objective. She was use to the quiet munching of Chuckles eating corn nut, Lady Jaye's scratching of a pencil as she doodled. Beachhead on the other hand was not quiet. She couldn't help but wonder what Lady Jaye and Duke were thinking when they recruited him.

In the Glittering Ballroom of the Myrtle Plantation she had her rude awaking. The target an oil refinery owner named Blaine Forrester, whom was believed to be sending out more than oil from his rigs. The Texas native was suspected of sending the Ramirez Drug Cartel weapons. This would Normally fall under the ATF's jurisdiction but, counter-intel believed that Cobra was laundering the Cartel's dirty money.

The two ATF agents working in the French Quarter were imbedded Forrester's organization. They also knew that a Charity event would be a perfect place to slip a bug on the owner of the rigs, but Forrester had seen both agents. Then there was the compounded problem, Zartan, and his siblings were working with the oil man. The agents didn't hesitate to call the GI Joe team. In exchange for a fresh face and access to the Joe team's intelligence on Cobra in the area, the ATF would give them admittance to all the information that the bug would produce.

Cover Girl remembered how simple the briefing had been, Flint and Lady Jaye had laid down her objective: make contact with Forrester, trade out his cell phone for a duplicate with the tap and then come home. "Here's your chance to wear a pretty dress" Lady Jaye grinned. The only caveat Flint had said with his signature frown to drive his point home. "You are in Thieves' Guild territory. Do not get Remy LeBeau's attention, we do not want him involved."

Cover Girl had felt she did a decent job with the trade-off of the cell phones. Some of it was skill, but the blue backless cocktail dress that she had borrowed from Lady Jaye helped since it had her target looking at her 'assets' not her hands as she traded out the phones. She stood afterwards with Forrester trying not to bolt. Remembering Lady Jaye's lesson, 'a dead giveaway is a horrid exit', If they have noticed you, stay, chat them up, you'll know when it's time to leave. So she stood smiling talking about politics then the crazy snow storms last winter. She was sure he was about to ask if she wanted to go back to his place. Thank god a Mississippi Congressman and his wife made their approach. Seeing it as the perfect opportunity to take her leave, listening to how she should have left twenty minutes ago, she made her way to the door.

That's when the op went south. She heard her name, before she could change direction, a familiar face was in front of her. Sadly, it took her a minute to place him, Charlie Something. They had gone on a few dates right before she joined the Army. The door to the entrance way was only a hundred feet and here this man had stopped her. She had been warned someday, somehow, somebody you know will recognize you in the middle of an operation.

Try as she might with Beachheads endless commentary, mixed with the curious questions of an ex-boyfriend, she did the one thing Jaye had stressed not to do, she froze. This wasn't like in the field, if you panic you have three or four people that have your six, it was just her, Beachhead screaming in her ear, and an ex-boyfriend hoping to get lucky. She tried to maneuver him so her back was to the door but he was having none of that. Her adrenaline kicked in and she felt trapped; it took every muscle in her body to not pull out the small gun strapped high on her inner thigh and shoot the guy.

She tried to use the breathing techniques Scarlett had showed her. It seemed to cause her to hyperventilate more then calming herself. Now she had her own voice giving a rolling commentary. She was out on a limb, if something went terribly wrong, there was no way Beachhead would be able to get to her in time.

As she was about to just run full tilt out of the Plantation not caring if anyone noticed, an arm slinked around her waist. Beside her stood a man that was an inch taller than her _in heels_. He was lean, muscular wearing an expertly tailored suit so one could appreciate his body. She noticed on the inside of his right wrist was a fleur-de-lis tattoo. Trying to hold in a gasp he pulled her to him, winking his mismatched eyes. A brown lock of hair falling on his forehead giving him a boyish quality. He drummed his fingers on her side, causing an oddly calming affect on her.

In a rich Cajun accent, he explained to Charlie that she was jet lagged from her flight in from Dubai. Feel free to stop by tomorrow, with a calling card of course, she should be rested enough to take visitors. Old school, southern gentleman intimidations, no fisticuffs needed. It worked like a charm.

Beachhead didn't think so, especially since the arm around her waist belonged to Remy LeBeau. The Rangers screaming in her ear intensified so loudly that the Cajun could hear it. With a grin he smiled pulling the ear wig out and plopped it in her Champaign. Then gracefully he steered her out of the ball room through the door, only to pass Zarana.

Reacting quickly, the mercenary made the order for the Dreadnock's to attack them. It worked itself out, of course, by the end of the night, Zarana was in custody and on her way to Guantanamo if General Hawk had anything to say about. But, the French ambassador's limo had been driven into a lake. Not to mention a gun battle in the streets of New Orleans as the Assassin Guild joined in the fun trying to push Zartan out of the wards.

"That bad?" Cover Girl looked up with a start. She was so involved in her own thoughts of last night she forgot where she was, let alone she had company.

"Jaye teamed me up with Beachhead. Beachhead HATES me!" she wined. Her hatred for this man was beginning to intensified, she was pretty sure she hadn't sounded like this since her fifth birthday and her mom bought her a Barbie doll dream house, not the Hot Wheels race track that she wanted.

"I don't think Beachhead hates you." Bailey chewed in her nail. "A strong dislike, maybe. But hate?"

"With friends like you who needs enemies?" She took a bite of her Irish stew. "Every time he looks at me he sneers like I have done some great sin against him. I just don't get it."

"Maybe he has resting Bitch face?" She wondered. Working at her Uncle's bar as a bartender she had became familiar with many Joes, Beachhead was a regular, though he didn't hang out that much of with the core group of Joes, she thought he was nice, and he did have a face that was easy on the eyes. "So what happened?"

"From the start of the mission he would question every decision I made." Cover Girl went into as much detail that she could of the night. It was true that Bailey was told much more then she should, most Joes figured that since she was Lady Jaye's sister and the girl did work on post with the Joe team as an emergency vet. The minimal security clearance she did have had been hard enough for Scarlett and Lady Jaye to get due to a past transgression. "Beachhead bulked. Later he swore in that maddening southern accent he didn't. I know that tone of voice he uses when he doesn't think I can do something."

"Do you?" It was no secret to anyone that when Beachhead joined the team that he rubbed everyone the wrong way. Bailey wondered if Cover Girl's thought were colored by her first impressions of the Ranger.

"I work with the guy." Cover Girl justified her feelings. The ex-model couldn't help but feeling a little hurt that her friend thought that she was overreacting. Truth was Bailey got to sleep in every morning, she wasn't on the PT field being zeroed out by the Joe when she didn't run as fast as he would have liked or her pushups were slightly off. She would never admit that since he had been on the team she had moved to Charlie run group to Lady Jaye's lead turbo charged Alpha group. She was not about to give him the credit that his barking _might_ have had something to do with it. Okay, so maybe he didn't hate her but she sure as hell hated him. With a groan her head hit the table again this time some stew sloshed out hitting her in the face.

Sitting up she rubbed it off with a growl she picked up her chilled bottle of soda. "I plan on pretending there is whiskey in this." With that she took a long drink, downing almost the entirety. "I made a huge mistake" Cover Girl stated when she placed the bottle back on the table. There was a beat with Bailey blinking at her. "This is where you tell me 'no, Courtney you didn't.'"

"'No, Courtney you didn't'." Bailey mimicked then studied her friend quizzically. "What mistake did you make?"

"Thinking I could be your sister." Cover Girl stated caused Bailey who was in mid-drink to start sputtering and coughing. Equating the five foot six, blond, blue eyed woman across from her to her sister Lady Jaye was like comparing apples and oranges. Even their looks were drastically different Jaye with her riotous curls, dark skin, green eyes and curves in all the right places. Bailey was honey blonde with tan skin and big blue eyes. The Older Hart-Burnett was outspoken, impetuous with a fiery temper. Bailey was analytical, patient and hard to anger.

"Have you met my sister?" She started giving Cover Girl a glare to drive her point home, "She's a hot head, think about all the times she runs into a situation without looking. Oh her schemes, you didn't have to grow up with 'Fric' and 'Frac'." She explained making reference to her older brother 'Frac' and Lady Jaye fraternal twin brother Mackenzie. "You could never eat a grilled cheese sandwich again." Bailey continued. "Who does not like a grilled cheese sandwich?"

"I don't." Tunnel rat interjected.

Both women glared at the smaller Joe. Causing him to shrink in his chair. "What?"

"Private conversation Solider." Bailey growled.

"Sorry, just that I'm hungry." He said turning around. "Not all of us can go in the kitchen and get their own food."

Ignoring Tunnel Rat's pout Cover Girl turned back and studied her friend. "Saorsa get out again?" Cover Girl laughed as Bailey's grip on her coke tightened, a three-year-old buckskinned Tennessee Walker was the newest addition to the Hart-Burnett/Faireborn clan. Lady Jaye adored the mare, a present from Flint. The horse took after her owner. She was ornery, playful and sweet; her one flaw, the little girl was an escape artist.

Bailey's jaw twitched, it wasn't the two times that she fell on her face trying to get the horse back into the stables. Nor, was it the damage done to the outer fence that had let her out. It was the scene at the creek that had her worked up. "Don't want to talk about it." She grumbled, taking a long drink of her coke. Bailey opened her mouth to get the conversation back on to Cover Girl's problem when the realization that her current problem had just walked in. The memories of walking up on the man played in her mind. She felt a blush creep up the back of her neck to the tip of her ears. Damn Saorsa, if she wasn't Houdini reincarnated she would not be having this problem.

"What is going…" She turned to look what had Bailey's attention. There stood Snake Eyes and Dialtone at the bar putting in to-go orders. She realized that one of them had cause the red glow to her friend's complexion. "Not DIALTONE!" She hissed.

"Gross" She screwed her face up. "I'm sure he would make a girl very happy," Bailey couldn't hide the look of pity, Dialtone was actually a good looking guy if he got rid of the mustache and gained some self- confidence didn't he know that this was the _Age of the Geek_?

Cover Girls mouth dropped, "Snake Eyes?" her eyes got wide. "It makes sense…" She drew out chewing on the thought, "No it doesn't" She changed her mind. Bailey was all sunshine, Snake was shadows and darkness. Just that alone should be enough to deter her.

"We are working on your problem." She said trying to get the focus off the fact that at twenty-five she was developing a teenage crush.

Cover Girl shook her head. "No way, your problem is getting my problem off my mind." Cover Girl said cheerfully. "Your problem is more fun."

Bailey groaned, this was not a problem she wanted to confront, she wanted to go find some hot guy that she actually had a chance with make him take her dancing, making her forget about the ninja. Problem was that every guy that she came in contact that was single was either terrified of her Uncle, Sister or Future-Brother-In-Law or she saw them more as a brother. The choices after all that left men in relationships or Ace.

That thought make her think she was better off wallowing in self-pity, she just found out she had a crush on the idiot. Stupid horse, always having to escape when Lady Jaye went away on a mission. She had to go right to the waterfall hoping that Jaye was hiding there. The way her luck had been lately he had to be there. Naked. She just needed to get laid. It was her turn to hit her head on the table.

Looking up at the noise of a chair scrapping she saw Jinx take a seat. "Sorry I'm late." An exotic beauty Jinx wore blue jeans and red t-shirt "Scarlett can't come she's working through lunch. She does want some of the Irish stew. Something about a 'sawdust' salad, the grill being broken and Tony Stark is up to something." Jinx shrugged.

"Is that mustard?"" Cover Girl asked looking at the yellow stain standing out bright on the red t-shirt. Jinx, besides being a ninja, was a walking Murphy's law. If something was going to go wrong, it did and in her usual direction.

"Yeah, don't ask." She wiped at it with Baileys napkin. "So what did I miss? What the hell happened in New Orleans? I _was_ going to ask Beachhead; but, I couldn't find him."

It always amazed Cover Girl that both Jinx and Lady Jaye had no problems with the Ranger. He was Jinx's training Sergeant and even today the small Joe, who had no military background, went to him with questions that pertained to the military tasks of the team. He always would stop eager to answer her query about forms or tasks that she had never tackled before.

Lady Jaye knew the Ranger before he joined the team. The specifics she gave were ambiguous, however she did have his respect. The Joe team's trainer had even handed her the alpha run group at PT. Though Beachhead's muscle failure days are legendary, Jaye's run days has had many Joe crawling to the finish line cursing her.

"See she can talk to him," Cover Girl pointed looked at Bailey. "I am the only one he dislikes strongly."

"No, he dislikes Flint." Jinx and Bailey chimed in unison. Since the first day on the team Beachhead had made it very clear to the Warrant Officer's amusement he didn't like him. It was unclear as to why, and neither man was making it public. All Cover Girl knew was one night, during a night fire training exercise that Flint and Beachhead came to blows. After the dust had settled Lady Jaye had a black eye, and Snake Eyes was wanting a rabies shot because someone had bit him.

"Flint can be a bit…" Bailey started trying to explain that like Beachhead, Flint can rub people the wrong way. Beachhead just hadn't realized that once you get past his arrogance and boasting you realize there really is a nice guy under there that cared for his troops. Instead she made the mistake of looking up to see Snake Eyes collecting his to go order. God why did Saorsa have to get free?

"Talk to him." Cover Girl hissed.

"Who?" Jinx look of confusion as she turned to see who Bailey was look at.

"No one." Bailey hissed sending Cover Girl a not so covert look to stop it.

Cover Girl stared back sending a not so discreet nod in Snake Eye's direction. "BB has a thing for Snakes."

"Well I don't know if talking to him is a good idea, you might scare him." Jinx couldn't hide her surprise Bailey holding a torch for the Silent Ninja. "Look I've known him a while. I don't know what he would do if Bailey just walked up and talked to him. He might think she's a Cobra spy."

Bailey's eyes got wide at the thought of squaring off with the ninja. "It doesn't matter I figured he carries a torch for Scarlett."

"In an alternate universe maybe." Cover Girl laughed. "Trust me they are _just_ really good friends. Snake Eyes knows her heart lies with Duke."

"Okay, so he's not pinning away for Scarlett." Bailey shrugged looking up she watched as he took a seat in his jeep scratching Timber at the base of her ear. He looked up then, she swore his gaze meet hers but with his visor who could tell. Figuring it was wishful thinking she went back to her now empty Coke. "You guys are forgetting two key facts." Holding her fingers up as she spoke to emphasis what she was saying. "One: I don't know sign language. So if I talked to him, and he decides not to kick my ass, I would have no idea what he was saying. Two:" She Rubbed the purple and gold fleur-de-lis tattooed on her wrist. "Ninja's and Thieves don't mix."


	10. Chapter 10

"Absolutely not Elsa!" Jessie Porter didn't bother to hide his amusement at Sam Axe's expression. It was apparent that the former Navy Seal was having the age old dilemma: either kiss the woman senseless or throttle her.

Five minutes ago Sam was describing Cobra's plans to use the Children's Choir and Anaya as pawns in their game of revenge. The former Seal explained the need to bring a small unit of military personal to help with security. Jessie had expected the business woman to be livid. Instead she had changed into clothing that would allow her to move more freely explaining she was going to help keep thirty kids calm making sure they were clueless that their lives were in danger.

Enter Sam's 'I am man hear me roar' bellow.

Elsa, to her credit, was not phased by his display of machismo. "And why not?" Both of hands on her hips looking at him dead in the eye. "Sam, I'm not going to Afghanistan, I am going down stairs to help my staff and the chaperones keep thirty children entertained. _You_ are the one that is going to keep them safe."

"Before this is over, it could turn dangerous." Sam tried to calmly explain, as he did Jessie noticed that the tips of Axe's ears were turning red with frustration.

"So, all the stories you've told me," Elsa looked at Sam suspiciously, "Were you telling me the truth or just trying to get into my pants?" Jessie couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped his mouth. The couple shot him a shared black look. Figuring it would be better walk to the other side of the room he feigned interest in bookshelf with hospitality awards, knickknacks and pictures of her family, there was even one of her and Sam.

How the hell had Sam got a girl like her? Standing five foot five inches in her tennis shoes, with shoulder length brown hair and warm chocolate eyes, she was an image of class. The smile lines around her eyes gave her an air that she smiled a lot, but at the moment she was not smiling, and Sam looked very nervous.

"No, Elsa, baby I didn't lie." Sam looked so uncomfortable at the moment that Jessie almost pitied him. Memories of his Porsche being blown up last week played in his head and he cheerfully pushed aside any thoughts of compassion, _no Sam deserves this_.

"Then you don't have faith in your abilities?" Elsa cut him off.

"I have…" Sam made a rookie mistake; he looked deep into her eyes. In a flash, he was throwing his hands up in frustration conceding his point. "Fine, when something happens you will listen to the instructions me, the security team, or the Joe team give you. Verbatim."

"I am glad we could come to a compromise. "She leaned in kissing him on the cheek.

Sam went to open his mouth to explain that what just happened was not exactly a compromise; thankfully, he caught Jessie mouthing 'let it go' and closed it.

"Alright boys let's get my head of security." She said giving them both a devilish smile. Then left them standing in the middle of her office there wondering what had just happened.

* * *

"I have looked over the reports that you sent over." Congressman Beau Hyde said handed over a sniffer of brandy to Destro. Destro followed the man back to his desk and took a seat across him. "I honestly think that the manufacturing cost and design of the m1190 will be something that the appropriations committee can get on board with, compared to your rival."

Destro glanced around the man's office, the wood paneling brought back memories of his father's office. Celling to floor bookshelves, animal heads hanging on the wall, the smell of mothballs and Bengay. He could tell the decorator put careful thoughts into were to put the décor in this room to showcase the Congressman's strong American values, love of god and country. All the things that would tug at the heart strings of his voters.

"This is an election year." Hyde stated the obvious. Even though Destro was not American he knew that all the world's eyes were on the soap opera called 'The Presidential Election'. The cast of candidates for either side would be right at home in a Circus Freak Show. "The issue that we're having is Congress had been marked in the past few years as not being able to get a budget in place."

 _That was putting it mildly_. Destro thought, not long ago the division between the two parties on Capitol Hill become so great that there were shut downs to the Federal Government. To an outsider like him the disconnect between the two rival groups seemed in many ways to be pulling the country apart.

"My associates and I want to put our best foot forward to the American people. In this day and age of instant gratification, the citizens of our great country can barely look past what Nutella and Bacon Starbucks smoothie they drank this morning let alone the sins of three years ago. Voting on spending this amount of money on a gun which sole purpose is to make warfare easier," Hyde looked out into the green manicure lawns of his home, taking a long drink of his brandy. "There are some who fear that the smart bullet will not be well met with the American public. What they don't understand if we don't outfit our troops with the bullet, then how will we defend our self against the enemy that does?"

That simple comment, 'we have to have it because of our enemy has it'. In Destro's business that was what made him money. Everyone wanted to keep up with the Joneses. It took every fiber in his body to not point out that the Tenth Commandment even applies in warfare. He never bothered cause the majority of the associates that he dealt with warped religion to meet their own needs.

The newest technology, every nation believed, that was what kept them safe. The sharpest lightest sword morphing to some technological 'doo-dad' that would make killing young men even easier. Forget finding a cure for cancer; countries and warlords wanted a bullet that would think for them. Next thing, he figured, would be Robots. Oh, how he hated Robots.

"I know that my associates would like to see the military apportion votes get pushed back till the new president is sworn in." Hyde continued. "Plus, this year my seat is being challenged." He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers he looking over them at Destro. "My opponent is ahead of me in the polls, If I win the there is a real chance of us taking over the House this next session. Think of what I can accomplish as far as stalling talks on gun control. Especially if I was the senior representative from the fine state of Georgia." His southern accent got thicker as he drawled out the last part. "I am hoping next session to see Speaker of the house if our party can take over Congress this year. But if my opponent wins…." Hyde let that hang in the air.

Destro knew exactly what the Senator wanted it hung in the air swirling around with that wink, wink, nudge, nudge, statement. He raised his snuffer, swirling the light amber liquid, taking a drink it was all that he could do to not snarl at Hyde. The man had watered down the cheap stuff, putting it in an expensive bottle. This man was more like his father then he had originally thought. "I understand completely where you are coming from."

"I am so glad that we are on the same page, I look forward to seeing you in Washington next week." The conversation was over, Hyde stood up and held out his hand. The man's oily smile didn't escape Destro.

Hyde couldn't get Destro out of his office fast enough. Once in the waiting area of his house the Senator did stop, nodding to Ealasaid. Destro had to give his assistant credit, she threw him her best sparkling smile. The Senator took a double take, the Laird had to bite his tongue from asking if he wanted to be left alone with the pretty blonde.

The minute he was out of sight Ealasaid sneered as her body did a short dance of disgust. "So how did you do?" She asked handing him his brief case. Motioning for her to follow him away from the prying eyes of Hyde's secretary, he waited until they were in the sunlight for him to state his wishes.

"Next time you make an appointment, please make sure It's my place." The watered down brandy still clung to his mouth, pulling out a tin of mints he popped one in his mouth. "He had the audacity to serve me not only cheap, but watered down brandy." It had been a slap in face, what Hyde really thought of him personally. Thing was the Congressman was so full of himself he didn't realize that Destro had his number.

"Get with Derrick LaForte over at the NRA, I want his take on Daniel Defense's new design. Evidently they have a chance of out bidding me." His chauffer, upon seeing him, made his way toward the town car, opening the door. With a nod Destro slipped into the darken interior. The leather settled around him as he took a seat.

Ealasaid settled in next to the Commander of his Grenadiers, her smart phone at the ready to take more notes. "Also check on Hyde's rival. See what his platform on military spending is."

She nodded her thumbs moving lightning quick. "Oh," he continued "I think it's time that we pull out the insurance against Hyde. You still have that contact?"

Destro wondered if secret smiles were written in a woman's DNA, because her expression mirrored one he had seen many times on too many women, "I do." She simply stated. Her contact had ties to the Joe team, and Destro wondered if it was time he figured out who she was sharing their secrets with.

"Get the information to them, meet us in Miami in the morning." Her look held some disappointment, Destro had found giving some lead way to those most loyal to him made them even more loyal and produced better results. "Fine, early afternoon, I hope that you at least get a hearty breakfast and are ready to hit the ground running."

"Of course, my laird." Her face was impassive but her eyes sparkled. He mentally made a note to investigate just who she was seeing.

"Onto new news, your plane will be ready with in the hour." Alistair informed them looking up from his smart phone.

"How would you like to keep the Baroness occupied? She will be wondering why the trip to Miami. Especially with the importance of the Twin's mission." Ealasaid asked looking at him pointedly.

"Carte blanch with my credit" Waving off the feeling of irritation that beautiful women tend to cost more than they are worth. "Shopping spree in Miami. That should pique her interest, Alastair you still are friends with that Fashion Designer?"

"Emma?" Memories of his last visit caused him to smile. "Let me guess, set up a private display of her new collection?" Destro didn't bother to hide his amusement at the man's groan. "You do know the last time Emma dealt with the Baroness, Emma about poured a bottle of Champaign on her head?"

"Tell Emma she will be handsomely rewarded." Destro had to admit that the Baronesses dealing with 'underlings' was not her most endearing quality. "In fact, have her send some designs to Veronica Waters, my mother's assistant. I know my daughters have some parties coming up. As always make sure Veronica does not tell them where the dresses came from."

Thanks to Cobra his children have grown up not knowing their father. For years he thought his oldest daughter was dead. Killed at the hands of Cobra Commander himself. It wasn't until the past couple of years that he realized she was alive. It was then that his plans changed. The fight in him was renewed.

"And the Joes in Miami?" Alastair interrupted his thoughts.

"Proceed as planned." Destro ordered.


	11. Chapter 11

"The bomb should have taken this place down like a house of cards," Lady Jaye swore reading Tripwire's preliminary report.

"According to your techs they defaulted from the original design once they got here, why?" Fiona glanced around the small boiler room.

"The bomb was placed over here, with its payload it wouldn't reach the bearing wall," Jaye walked off to the room. "The timer was set for an absurd amount of time. They put it here on purpose." She ran her fingers through her hair. "The connectors had residue of another C4 with a different composition, a favorite of Firefly."

"But why?" Fiona asked as she took a drink of her iced coffee. "going in after the bomb has been set and making it not have as much impact, I can see. But changing the timer and the C4, that makes no sense."

"I know who ever did this isn't one of mine," As OIC of Covert Operations Lady Jaye had the task of keeping track of all her agents in the field. The only one that would come close to something like this was currently working in New Orleans.

"You think there is a traitor in Cobra?" Fi looked over her shoulder back at the boiler room.

"Why else would they Sabotage their own mission?" There was something she was missing and she couldn't shake the feeling that it was huge. At the moment the why's and how's of someone being a double-agent for Cobra would have to go on the back burner. They had a group of kids to save.

"Well Look brother…." Jaye groaned at the voice, wondering how it was her luck to have brought out the twins from their gilded tower.

"…..If it isn't Lady Jaye" The other twin finished.

"And a delicious friend." They said in unison.

Lady Jaye groaned inwardly, the identical twins were deadly as they were handsome. The night that Storm Shadow turned traitor Cobra sent their best 'Generals' to chase down those Joes that they thought were worthy opponents. At twenty-two, she never thought of herself as someone on that list, she was just a stubborn girl trying to find answers. Trained by the best that the Joe team had to offer, she was good, she just never saw herself as Scarlett, Snake Eyes and Duke badass good.

That night five years ago, Cobra saw her as some sort of threat. She had finished up an easy intel gathering mission using her IRA cover Heather McKinnen when she got information from an ex-FSB turned Russian Mobster named Boris Utkin. The Mob was sending a shipment of guns to operatives of the New Dawn waiting in Berlin. Snake Eyes, undercover with the American Militia group, was waiting for her intel so a group of Joes could swoop in to capture key members and extract Snake-Eyes. The joint operation with Interpol should shed light upon another piece of the puzzle of Cobra's current operation, allowing them one step closer to taking down the terrorist organization for good.

After Scarlett had given them the thumbs up that the mission was a success, Jaye and her handler, Cerberus sat down to a late night dinner. The older man was telling her how his four-month old was rolling over, but in midsentence, stopped. His brown eyes stared into nothing as Jaye watched his body slump in his chair and blood came trickling from the corner of his mouth.

Lady Jaye, knocked over her chair as she rose, grabbing her backpack and cellphone. Pulling out all the cash in her pocket she threw enough down to cover the meal. As she turned to leave, she swore. Tomax and Xamot, though she had never met them in the flesh, Joe intel had told her that they were mirror images of each other, identical twins. Their reflected expression had spoke volumes; she was _not_ what they were expecting. Using their surprise to her advantage, she struck out at the closest twin.

Xamot had power, she just had the desire to stay alive. The circus acrobat turned lawyer seemed to be impressed with her fighting skills even though he had her on the ground in no time. His body pressed on her, revulsion traveled through her as she realized just how impressed he had been. He had looked at her not as a tomboy but a woman, a worthy advisory. Where as some of her counterparts in the spy game would find it flattering, even hot, it just scared the hell out of her.

He reached down caressing her face, his honey colored brown eyes taking her in, he had slightly loosened his grip. She took the opening; taking the knife she had hidden in her boot she slashed at his face. The shock and pain from her attack caused him to let her go, allowing her to get out from under him. In anger, he grabbed on to her pony tail, snatching her backwards. Tears stung her eyes from pain as he dragged her closer to his brother so he could join in the 'fun'.

At that moment the café lit up with a bright light and deafening boom, her senses overwhelmed by a flash-bang grenade that had been thrown between the three of them. This was the only opening she had, it didn't mater that spots were in her eyes or her ears rang painfully. She tried to pull away but Xamot still had her pony tail in his clutches. Reaching up, she took a swipe at the base of her pony tail with her blade.

Heading toward the cooler air on her face she felt a big hand with a scar on the palm on the small of her back propelling her forward. That hand never moved as she tried to blink away the spots floating in front of her, it lead her to safety. Once she could see clearly and hear at least marginally better, she was surrounded by three men, Army, Navy and CIA. They had been sent in to extract her. She figured they were a better choice then the Twins.

Xamot broke through her thoughts. "You look as lovely as always, Lady Jaye." She watched as he touched his scar, as if, in his mind their encounters were a courtship ritual. He truly believed that she would leave Flint for him one day.

Dropping down into her signature low fighting stance she grinned, blocking out Tomax she gave her full attention to 'weak link' Xamot. This seemed to please the scarred twin even more, "When are you going to realize that you are a much better fit with us, than with Flint. He would never understand the more sophisticated nuances of the lifestyle you deserve." Xamot's voice poured sex, he was becoming bolder in his appeals.

She straightened up out of her fighting stance. "Well since you put it like that." For a beat she acted like she gave it his proposition serious thought. The moment it looked like she would finally give Xamot what he wanted, her face screwed up into a sneer. "EWW" Pulling out her Sig she squeezed the trigger, watching Xamot's expression as a bullet slammed in Tomax's foot.

"I thought Joes were not the type to shot until shoot upon." Tomax gritted out, she had to give him credit he did not lose his composure.

"Haven't you heard? I'm the bitch of the team." She shrugged, before she and Fiona could escape, Xamot was racing towards her. With a powerful lunge his shoulder contacted with her stomach pushing all the air out of her lungs. Working through the shock of not being able to get a good breath in, she allowed her arms to go over his back, pulling on his uniform shirt she gained some leverage. Like Flint had showed her, she placed her knee on his sternum as he pushed her full force in to the wall. The impact sent her knee into his chest plate, though painful to her she felt a crunching in his chest. Then she raised her legs, twisting her body mid-air her knees landed on his shoulders. Squeezing her thighs around his neck she launched her body along with his to the ground. The move done in a blink of an eye had left the twin immobilized.

Tomax screamed as Lady Jaye skated on all fours across the floor. Kicking her foot down on the linoleum of the hall to stop her slide she glared up and smiled at him. He had been so interested in her battle with Xamot he had stopped paying attention to Fiona. With a growl Tomax rushed towards her, but Fiona's stiletto glad heel came crashing down on his bullet ridden foot. The wiry Irish woman followed with a high kick up to his face. As the man was swaying, she finished up with a haymaker to the chin. "Lets get out of here!" Fi yelled.

Thankfully, Fiona's car was waiting on the sidewalk as both women slid into it's interior. Lady Jaye pressed the Bluetooth in Fi's car. "What's up Jaye?" Flint voice filled the Genesis.

"Well I was right; the bomb was tampered with." Lady Jaye explained looking over her shoulder swearing as Xamot was seen standing outside the hotel holding his chest, screaming on his phone. "Plus we just saw double for a minute."

"Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum?" Flint sighed, though he would never tell her so, she knew that Xamot's obsession with her had him concerned.

"The two and only." She smiled, "Don't worry, we left an impression."

"Baby, you always leave an impression." He could only imagine what she had done.

She was about to have a witty comeback when she felt Fiona's car lurch forward. "What the HELL!" Looking in the rear view mirror she swore, a non-descript sedan was riding on their bumper. Lady Jaye unbuckled her seat belt, pulling her head out of the passenger window she ducked back in when she almost got a face full of lead. She did have enough time to recognize the shooter "We have Major Blood on our ass."

Lady Jaye reached behind her seat when a bullet shattered the rear view glass. Grabbing a Javelin, she pulled her self out the car's window. Examining the scene, she knew her throw was going to be awkward at best, dangerous at worst. Looking slightly ahead of them, she spied a chain link fence with trees, it was her only chance of getting Major Blood with out taking out passerby's or a store full of people. It was one of the worst throws she had ever made. It wobbled and twisted for a second she thought she had miss her mark, but it landed. Ugly but true.

The thermite javelin was one of her designs, instead the big explosion of ampho, thermite burns hot and controlled, perfect for an urban setting. The force of impact causes a pin to press into a cartridge of water, the hot burst of heat sent the head of the javelin into the car's engine block. With the sedan's engine stalled the steering wheel locked up the car with the Major crashed right where she wanted him, through a fence into a tree.

"That should put some fiber in his diet." Lady Jaye pulled herself back in giggling as she watched Major Blood glaring at them as they drove away.

"I hope Jessie and Sam are..." Before she could finish she looked up in her rearview mirror. "What is that?" A heavily modified four-by-four was racing toward them.

Lady Jaye swore under her breath, "The Thunder Machine." Directing her voice to Flint "We've got big problems." She tried to keep her voice calm, "It seems Beachhead's intel was wrong there are a few Swamp Riders that Zartan left behind."

She could hear him taping at the touch screen on his tablet "Beachhead specifically wrote that he saw both the Voodoo Kings and the Swamp Riders!" As a tactician Flint's decisions were based on what Intelligence told him. After action, prelim and verbal reports were the bulk of his decisions when he started moving his people around in the field.

Lady Jaye heard him curse. Mistakes happen, she knew he was already moving past the oversight in intel and his mind was thinking how to fix it. This side of Flint was startling, her fiancée kept secrets from the others: how he got the scars on his back, his love of literature, and at the moment the most important thing, how he was insanely intelligent. His mind working faster then anyone could imagine; all his neurons firing at high speed, low drag, taking in a crazy amount of information to figure out a solution.

"Lady Jaye hang tight." The gravel in Flint's voice deepened becoming more pronounced. In the background she heard clanking and slamming and then "Michael and I are on our way."

Opening her mouth to tell them they were only a mile away that they could handle this, getting to the loft was not outside of her and Fiona's combined talents. Before she could voice this to him the sound of metal crunching and tires squealing filled her ears as the vehicle made contact with Fi's sports car. She realized at that moment she never put her seat belt back on. Franticly she started tugging at the belt, it was stuck. Letting it go she swore in Gaelic as it didn't retract.

Lady Jaye tried to tug it again, nothing. Looking at the holder she saw a bullet hole in the casing. Dropping an F-Bomb, then her own unique litany of cusswords that took one on a tour of Europe, she pulled again, again and again.

"Jaye what's wrong!?" Flint screamed in her ear, she felt the car turn slightly and Fiona worked to straighten it out. There was a breaking noise then a popping, Fi had lost control of the steering wheel. The Irishwoman looked over swearing as realization dawned on her.

"Hurry!" Fiona screamed in her panic the American accent she used slipping away, Ireland was in her voice, the concern for her friend evident.

Another pull. Nada. Fiona reached over holding the vinyl down so Jaye could examine the casing. Lady Jaye wishing at the moment that she had nails. She tried unsuccessfully to get her fingers to pull apart the casing enough to get the belt out. She breathed a slight breath of relief as the Thunder Machine backed off. Then she felt the back seat meet her front seat as Thrasher brutally rammed them.

The Genesis spun a 180, Thrasher kept his foot to the pedal crashing full speed into Fiona's side of the car. The next thing Lady Jaye knew was the car was rolling over. In Desperation she used all her strength to hold on to the seat. As the sports car made its second revolution her quiver became loose from the floorboard behind her, flying out her widow, it slammed her in the back of her head. The impact sent her into a daze causing her to loosen her grip.

It was the third revolution that she was thrown out of the window, sliding to a stop on the left side of her face and shoulder. The asphalt still hot from the Miami sun left painful marks, across her cheek. She tried to rise but her arms had no strength, spots danced in front of her eyes, bile crept up her throat, causing her to groan.

Her head was a fog, again she tried to rise but the noise around her was playing havoc on her senses. She zoned on one man roaring and growling, rough with emotion. Hours of training had taught her to focus on that voice, filter out all the unnecessary and focus on the unique timber that was a cross between her Drill Sergeant at Ft. Jackson and her College track coach. "Lady Jaye!" It was the way he said it bitten out, if he said any more then that he would lose what composure he had left. Her last thoughts were why no one ever got the message: She was a Hart-Burnett, she was a fighter, and she was way to stubborn to die.


	12. Chapter 12

In the top left drawer of Flint's desk resides a couple extra packs of Big Red gum, his Army ring and a green journal. There is nothing really special about the journal with its textured green cover, and ease to acquire. What is unique is how he takes a ruler to draw the line in the middle straight and even, the time he takes to make sure his hand neatly writes every name, so in the future they are legible.

Adrienne Moore, resides in the middle of page three, was captured by Cobra when he was guarding an American Oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico. The kid had been stupidly brave the night Cobra came, subsequently, Flint almost lost him. Once rescued, barely hanging on to life, Moore decided that it was time for new employment. Six months ago, as Flint and Lady Jaye stood drinking coffee out side of Walter Reed, Dash ran into a Chaplin who to Lady Jaye's delight, had Flint in a bear hug lifting _him_ of the floor. Yeah, Moore had found a new line of work.

On the Top of page three there were two names: Emma Smith and across from her Alejandro Ruiez. Smith, a volunteer in Sudan for women's health had angered a Tribal Warlord. The woman's white skin and long blonde hair would fetch good money in the human slave market. He lost Ruiez that night, a Private First Class from Waco, Texas. Damn Kid was killed by an eight-year-old child solider. Four years later, as Flint raced to catch a connecting flight to Atlanta from Kansas in Nashville, a country girl stopped him, thanked him and introduced him to her daughter, Ruiez Smith. He missed his flight but it was worth it, and not just for the cookies Ruiez's namesake, now nine, makes him every holiday.

He's not the only Joe that keeps a tally of saves and losses. Lift Ticket has duck tape hatch marks on his Tomahawk for every Joe's life he has saved, and best-friends Lady Jaye and Scarlett with their dried dandelion tattoos each seed floating away representing a Joe that the team has lost. It was in their own ways to remember why they did what they did.

Flint raced towards Lady Jaye, screaming her name he watched in horror as she crumbled, eyes rolling back into her head. Fear had griped his heart as he had watched her get thrown from the car. He made a resolution then and there. Her name was not destined to be in Column B today, and as composed and professional of a solider that he was, the minute her name would be printed there the anger he kept at bay would over take him. He would walk away from this life he lived only to return in a body bag.

He cursed himself, _why didn't he listen to his gut_? That edgy feeling had never let him down, and has served him well, especially where Jaye was concerned. From the minute he met her he thought about all the close calls, the near misses, how he knew to cover her body with his to protect her from a bullet at an Inca temple, or how he would reach down against all odds and pull her body up in a throng of escaping people. It was almost as if his body, on its own accord, had an overriding objective to safeguard her.

Why did he dismiss the crawling feeling so summarily? He had battled against grasping her wrist as she gave him a quick kiss on the temple as she walked out of the loft. Instead he jokingly said "Have fun storming the castle."

The feeling hit his heart as he and Michael set up the communications center. The sensation crawled up his throat as he began checking in with Mainframe. So easily he had shoved it aside, like it or not, Lady Jaye was one of the Joe team's best. As much as he would like to see her in some safe job, Lion Tamer or Ice Road Trucker, he knew that she wouldn't be his Lady Jaye. The question that plagued him; would that version of her have him wrapped around her little finger like she did now?

One thing was for certain there was no way a lion tamer could cause the scene that was before him. How the hell two tiny women like Fiona Glenanne and Lady Jaye could cause so much destruction was beyond him. Cars stood on North River Drive empty, the owners having seen the two Dreadnocks exiting the Thunder Machine armed to the teeth had taken to hiding. There were five more totaled cars, and a fire hydrant was demolished sending a gyser of water into the air. Fiona's red Genesis had found its final resting place on its hood see sawing slightly.

The closer they got to the scene the popping of gun fire against metal was heard. Two hundred feet away stood Road Pig, smiling. The Dreadnock was in the middle of a perverse game; every time the Irish woman struggled to change positions to make her way out of the car Road Pig would send a volley of rounds to keep her in her place. A frustrated Fiona would start screaming curses in Irish Gaelic and French to the bigger man's delight.

Flint unslung his shotgun, using the sports car for cover he gave Michael a nod to indicate he had him covered. Training on Road Pig, whose huge size made him an easy target, the Warrant Officer watched as the man laughed at them trying to help her. "I've got you, just fall." Michael's muffled voice could be heard, Flint felt the car sway a little then an "oomph".

In between him and the Dreadnocks, not even a hundred feet away, was Lady Jaye. The Lieutenant was on her stomach though at first glance there was no pool of blood, no limbs at crazy angles. With relief, he noticed a slight rise and fall of her chest, she was breathing. Up until Michael extracted Fi from the car it seemed that they were more interested in her, then Lady Jaye but now their attention seemed to have renewed on the unconscious Joe.

Thrasher seemed to be taking point in this little endeavor. The Belgium biker smiled as he chambered a round in his side arm. Walking in the direction of the unconscious Jaye it was evident that he was going to take her out of the equation. Grasping the fore-end of his shotgun he pulled it toward him. Satisfaction filled him as chambered an incendiary round. Aiming at the cab of the Thunder Machine, Flint's lopsided grin emerged as he watched the interior erupt into flames.

Thrasher screamed with rage when he realized what Flint had done. Opening his mouth to deliver a tirade, Flint cut him off. " _Think_ son, that could be your body. I will use one of these bad boys on you if you take ONE MORE, FUCKING STEP!" He had always been under the impression that with all the words in the English language, to swear showed a lack of intelligence and imagination. There were times, though to quote Mark Twain 'Under certain circumstances, profanity provides a relief ...' that being said, a well placed f-bomb and a shot gun shell could be used to get an idiot's attention when they were about to do something really stupid.

"How you doing Fi?" Flint asked, his eyes on both Road Pig and Thrasher. Though he had pushed them closer to each other he wouldn't complain about a second set of eyes.

Fiona emerged, her Walther PPK at the ready. The Irish woman looked at his setup on his shotgun and smiled. "Trade you." He had to admit that Michael certainly had found a woman after his own heart. The slip of a woman in high heels and designer clothes could hang with Sam and Michael plus upstage the two on numerous occasions. No wonder Lady Jaye liked her.

The sliding of the charging handle on Michael's M4 alerted Flint that the spy was behind him. Flint took one more glance around the scene and a plan began to form in his mind. Flint's expression must have given him away because Michael let out a whistle, "This is going to hurt isn't it?"

"Only the Dreadnocks, if we play our cards right." Flint handed Fiona his shotgun.

Michael followed his unspoken train of thought, his face lit up in a smile. It was disconcerting to see, Flint thought, like he really didn't know what to do with his face. It came out more of a sneer than smile. For all Flint knew was it might be.

"So now what?" Fi asked not quiet sure where Flint's plan was going.

The three of them watched as the Dreadnocks were fighting over their next move. Thrasher was in the mindset to go after Lady Jaye for revenge of Flint attacking the Thunder Machine. What Fi hadn't picked up on were the javelins scattered around, sure her new thermite toy was impressive, the ampho that would give them a distraction needed to get the hell out of there.

"Cover me" Flint took a deep breath going low he moved closer to the end of the car planning a route in his head.

Flint watched as Michael pulled the butt stock of his AR15 into his shoulder, he brought his face to the charging handle, looking through the scope his lips turned up slightly, "Got you covered." To emphasize his point, he pulled the trigger, a round hit extremely close to Thrasher's foot driving home the point to the Dreadnock that he was in the spy's sights.

Flint took a deep breath centering himself, he pushed off. His good leg slipped slightly as he turned to run around the car. To his amazement his prosthetic was holding up keeping his weight. The orange banded javelin was in his sights, he felt shots of Road Pig's AK 47 come way to close for comfort. "Hey, Weston I thought you were laying down cover fire?"

"Sure Faireborn, oh wait YOUR BIG MELON HEAD IS IN THE WAY!" Weston screamed.

"My Head is not big." He mumbled. Then sliding to a stop he breathed an imaginary sigh of relief when his hand wrapped around the smooth wood of the shaft.

He felt a bullet whiz past him, looking up he saw Road Pig had a bead on him. Falling to his stomach, he watched as Fiona took a few shots pushing the Dreadnock back. Looking back at the shaft he rotated it in his hands, how the hell did she open these?

What would happen if he launched the thing with out extending it? "How you doing Flint?" Michael yelled over to him.

"I got this!" He growled. Flint realized on the side of the shaft, there was a thumb print reader. Of course! A few years ago, Wetsuit had taken a javelin out of Jaye's quiver when they were at Dracula's castle, though the Seal had only gotten one that ejected a rope, he had ruined their element of surprise giving Lady Jaye pause. After that experience she had bulit more security measures into her favorite weapons.

There had to of been a conversation; but, Jaye gets so damn excited when talking about these things, her brogue gets thicker, her green glare sparkles, becoming even more electric and then he gets lost. The need to kiss her edges out all other thoughts, his need to see that green glare darken even more not because of her love of things that go boom; but, because he was buried deep inside her. What could he say he was madly in love with that woman.

"Flint!" Michael growled, looking to his left he saw Lady Jaye was beginning to stir. This was going from bad to worse in his mind, if she was disoriented enough she might try to stand up. His time in the army he had watched even the most seasoned solider try to regain their bearings, after regaining consciousness, by rising in the middle of a firefight. The outcome is usually a shot between the eyes.

"I know what I am doing Michael!" Placing his thumb over the reader he prayed his extremely cleaver fiancée would have put his thumb print in what ever memory the scanner contained. Oh and she was _so very_ clever, with a snap the shaft extended to full size. "Okay Now!" He roared. Standing up he took all his strength and launched it. The three foot 5-pound javelin twisted in the air hitting his target the, Thunder Machine.

The explosion ripped through the vehicle. He felt shrapnel tear at his arm. Fighting his brain, he overrode its cry to take cover, turning on the ball of his foot he laid down moves that would have made his Ohio State football coach proud. His fingers touched her just in time as she was struggling to her knees.

Slamming on Jaye's back he rolled across her, then as he made it to his knees with his fiancée in his arms he was hitting hitting the button on the side of his prosthetic. The gas released then the piston engaged a physical jolt was felt as more CO2 flooded into the reservoir. Tightening his grip on the small Joe, he took a step with his bad leg, then another one with his good one. The move was not pretty; but, it was effective in getting him off the ground. Speeding up he pulled her closer in to his chest as he dashed to safety.

Then like a baseball player he slid into home. It took him a second to allow the adrenaline to leave him. Pressing his lips to her temple he allowed himself to use the fact that she was tangible in his arms to override the feeling that the adrenaline was causing him. "Chief your squeezing me to death." Her brogue was thick, and she was slowly trying to blink away the dazed confusion cause by her passing out. Chuckling he squeezed her harder.

"Well, someone is mad" Fiona said looking up at the commotion in front of the Thunder Machine. Flint pulled up still holding on to Lady Jaye, a smirk emerged as he watched the two Dreadnocks in a heated argument. The Belgian slapped the bigger man on the side of his head, screaming he took him by the scruff of the neck showing him the burning four by four.

Sirens could be heard, Flint chuckled at Weston's and Fi's shared look of terror. "Mainframe called them," he slapped Weston on the back. "Don't worry we've got a cover story for you two." Then to drive the point he gave a thumbs up to the traffic cam not too far away, and was rewarded with the red light blinking in Mores code, "Yo Joe!"

The two Dreadnock quickly thought that their best course of action was to get out of there. Three steps into their exit and they were quickly surrounded by the Miami-Dade police. Flint took his hand extending two fingers he pointed at his eyes then to them, following up pointing to his shot gun in the hands of Fiona. The meaning was clear: I've got my eyes on you, one wrong move I'll send an incendiary round through your body." The two men sneered at him, putting their hands up.

Thirty minutes later Flint was walking back over to Lady Jaye who was perched on the back of an ambulance. "Oh, Duke is pissed." Flint said putting his phone back on his hip. "Don't worry I blamed you."

Flint laughed at his fiancée threw him the middle finger salute. He moved closer tugging at a lock of hair her eyes narrowed, then softened when he squeezed her hand. He would never shake that feeling of terror that this afternoon brought about. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I was thrown out of a car," she moaned. She reached out slightly hooking her finger through one of his belt loops. To an outsider it wasn't obvious; but, he felt her pull him closer to her. He obliged, letting her thumb trace a line at his waist band. It was the part that he hated, for at the moment all he wanted was to sit down next to her, pull her into his lap and hold her. He would take this small opportune moment though, patiently waiting until the time came that he could thoroughly examine every inch of her; giving her what ever 'first aid' she might need.

"Okay Lieutenant," The EMT walking up to them said. "I would suggest you going to the hospital, something tells me I'd have more success talking to a wall. Take it easy, drink water, I have a feeling you two know what to look out for with head injury." To emphasize his point, he placed a bottle beside her.

Flint breathed a sigh of relief, and pulled her into him kissing the top of her head. _Thank god for hard Scottish skulls_.

"Well it seems that the Dreadnocks were here to break into the FBI offices to get Monkeywrench's body." Michael and Fiona walked up to them. "They only engaged us in responce to Xamont's call for help. Thrasher said he was hoping for some spending cash to get drunk tonight."

"How did you get the information so fast?" Lady Jaye looked at them as she opened her bottle of water.

Michael shrugged "It's a technique that me and Sam have honed over the years, we threaten to sick Fi on them" He nodding down to his girlfriend.

She shrugged trying to look completely harmless. "I can be very persuasive."

"So what is our next move?" Flint felt Lady Jaye perch her head on his shoulder, her finger was still making a lazy line on the small of his back. She was getting slightly bolder allowing her hand to rest on his side. He smiled sadly to himself. Like him, she wanted something tangible to hold on to a reminder that she was alive. "I think we can safely assume that Monkeywrench is a _not_ a happy coincidence."

"It's something I want to follow up on," Flint's frown tugged on his face. Passing a glance between Jaye and Fi, "You two said that you could tell the bomb was not in the right place for optimal damage?"

"Don't forget that Tripwire said there was residue of two C4 signatures. I'm waiting for a source at NCIS to confirm." Lady Jaye said.

"Why the double checking Jaye?" That caught Flint off guard. Jaye normally didn't take work outside of the Joe team.

Lady Jaye took her finger and tapped it twice on his back, translation: 'This was a discussion away from Fiona and Michael'. He knew her well enough that this wasn't a matter of trust. The Miami Spy had enough on his plate with his burn notice, to add whatever secret she was carrying would do him no favors. Reaching for her hand he gave it a quick squeeze. What he wouldn't do to start over back in their bed with his arms around her.


	13. Chapter 13

SFC Shanna O'Hara

Re: Operation Titan

Scarlett, I have asked Tony what exactly Operation Titan entails; in usual fashion he is not being very forthcoming. I have enclosed the PDF abstract that he sent me. I do have a dinner scheduled tomorrow with Col. Rhodes to discuss the military projects he is working on I will follow up with him and get back to you.

Pepper Potts

CEO Stark Industries

"There you are." Joe team's First Sergeant Duke, strode across the room in an attempt to reach his wife. He grumbled as he had to dodge a few Joes that were working on their hand to hand combat moves. Reaching Scarlett, he gave her hand a quick squeeze. Instead of the quick kiss he leaned in to steal, his face was touching the tablet in her hand. His expression of surprise caused her to giggle. With a growl he pulled the electronic device out of her hands.

He quickly regretted it, Duke wasn't a dummy, he had graduated college by taking advantage of free courses and the GI Bill, his major was Military Science, _not_ Medical Gobbledygook. "So what do you think?" her southern twang interrupted him trying to read.

"I hate to say it, you might want to ask Falcon" did those words really come out of his mouth? Scanning the training area his eyes fell on a tall, Italian man who was currently getting his ass kicked by the team's resident bounty hunter, Jinx. Duke let out a shrill whistle. The noise caused his half-brother to look up and loose focus on the woman in front of him, allowing her an opening to give him an elbow to the side of the head.

Duke watched as Falcon picked up the smaller woman, say something to her, whilst ignoring the glare she gave him. Falcon turned to make his way toward Duke and Scarlett, as Jinx straightened herself, pulled back her arm, and beaned him with a bottle of water. Duke's half-brother eyes narrow turned knowing it was Jinx; yet, she was in deep conversation with a group of green shirts.

Falcon shook his head, a small smile played his lips, it was obvious that Falcon had payback in mind for Jinx later.

"Little brother surprised the hell out of you didn't he?" Duke looked down at his wife.

"That he is a hell of a nurse?" Duke rubbed the back of his neck, trying desperately to hide the look of pride in his face. The only reason Falcon became a Joe was for Duke to keep an eye on him after their mother's death. His first month he had been caught in dereliction of duty, and court martialed. Though he had redeemed himself, his true talents appeared in Paris when Flint had been shot by the Baroness. Saving the team's Executive Officer had opened up a world for Falcon that he was excelling at.

"Soon to be Nurse Practitioner." The young Captain smiled. Duke's glared handing him the tablet. His brother immediately started reading his boyish smile turned into a frown. Absently he took a drink of water. Then more reading, after a minute he was digging through his backpack pulling out a notebook and pen. Then the chicken scratch.

Duke's face furrowed, the look on Falcon's face he had seen it on his stepfather's face many times before when he was trying to figure out some incredible problem in his head. Falcon mirrored it perfectly as he read. Something in that expression didn't bode well for the First Sergeant. Duke was about to ask him what he was thinking when a banging noise caught his attention.

Looking up Duke shook his head when he saw a frantically motioning Ninja struggling to stay upright as two Joes wrestled around him. Navy vs. Marines, the never ending debate that often came to fisticuffs between Leatherneck and Wetsuit. Snake-Eyes had tried to break the pair up so engrossed in their 'discussion' that the silent assassin was being ignored. There was some humor watching Snakes having to fight from being dragged down into the floor.

"Snakes, why didn't you ask for help?" Scarlett didn't bother to hide her exasperation.

Duke joined Scarlett as she waded into the brawl, Snake Eye's hands moved in sharp movements punctuated by grunts to show his displeasure. "I have been trying to get your attention for a few minutes."

Duke stifled a chuckle, which caused the Ninja to throw up his hands. Shaking his fist, he pointed down at his boot and tried to get it free. The First Sergeant reached down slightly afraid what he might pull up thankfully his hand closing around Wetsuit's ankle, Scarlett took the other ankle and they pulled him away from the Marine. Snake Eyes placed his foot on Leatherneck's chest putting enough pressure to keep the man from moving.

Squabbles between team was par for the course in the Joe team. High stress missions, working long hours in close quarters, Duke often looked at them with a grain of humor. Scarlett and Cover Girls four-month battle of cattiness, Gung-Ho and Doc not talking to each other for four days, and then Lady Jaye and Flint row that had them toe to toe both screaming in different languages. The latter was the most humorous, especially when Jaye turned to Gaelic and Flint to Cherokee, neither had a clue what the other is saying. Those arguments blew over; Scarlet and Cover Girl were friends again, the Marine and Physician were playing golf together in no time then everyone on the team knew the outcome of Flint and Lady Jaye.

Wetsuit and Leathernecks, their bickering like an old married couple irritated even the most laidback of the Joe team. Duke was first to admit that as First Sergeant he had to have a little more patience; even he had a breaking point. "That's it Sailor give me fifty. You too Marine." The two men turned over on their stomachs complaining that it was the others fault. Duke sent them a heated look shutting them up. Still angry, however more importantly silent the two men began the motion of push-ups.

Walking back to Falcon, Duke noticed he was reading through the many pages of notes he had written in the small amount of time. The frown on his half brothers face was deep, something gave the First Sergeant pause. "I sent a copy of this to myself." He was already packing up his gear. "I need to ask Doc a few questions. Psyche Out really needs to be brought in on this." He rubbed his neck. "Scarlett can you see who got permission to access our medical files especially after that Time article?"

The southern bell nodded her head, "It will take a while, Mainframe is backlogged slightly with the Miami and Bogota missions, plus the intelligence that Cover Girl and Beachhead were able to bring back from New Orleans."

"You don't think that Stark is interested in Lady Jaye?" Duke had not been sold on the article, he had worried that it might drudge up some enemy's from Lady Jaye or Scarlett's past. He hadn't thought that Stark industries would use the article to become interested in Jaye's injuries.

Falcon looked at his notes. "I need to double check my notes from that night," He sighed looping his arms through one of the straps on his backpack. "Jaye physically is a perfect candidate for this."

"Let me ask around to some sister units see if any of them have had the same request." Scarlett looked troubled, hopefully this was the far future, somewhere down the road. When the project did get up and running, Jaye would no longer be a viable candidate.

"MARINES!" Leatherneck's voice cut through their thoughts.

"NAVY YOU BLOCK HEAD!" Wetsuit countered.

The argument between the two adversaries had resumed with gusto. Scarlett shook her head as she strode back over to the two men. "Your freaking kidding me!"

Duke went to turn to help his wife, Falcon's hand on his arm stopped him. "I didn't want to scare Scarlett." Pulling up a website he showed him a picture of the brain. "Sight has to be tied to memory. Best case scenario: I'm being overly concerned, worst case scenario: everything we know about Lady Jaye could be lost, wiped away."

"The odds of this working?" Duke looked at the picture.

"It's not the odds, it's if those on the Hill want to try to see if this works." He looked at his brother "If they want her, they will back us into a corner, either we play ball or we lose her." Falcon looked his brother in his eyes. "What do you think will happen if they try and take her away."

"Frank Castle all over again." Duke swore. Frank Castle an ex-Marine and former Joe turned vigilante. Spurred by the death of his wife and children the man had taken the law into himself, even today when his path crossed his former teammates it usually was with not so good intentions.

Duke knew that if the government tried to step in try to take Lady Jaye away from the team. Flint would do whatever it took to get her back. Not to mention the other Joes, this was a family, as corny as it sounded, family took care of each other. He looked up to see Scarlett dragging Leatherneck by the collar of his PT uniform across the matts. Sure they were dysfunctional at times; but, still a family.

* * *

The constant stream of FBI personnel walking in and out of the door across the hall from them, had aroused Airtight's curiosity "Hey Trip, don't you think it's odd that we need an escort in a FBI building?" Airtight watched as another person left the room nodding to the two guards at the door. He allowed the compulsion to wave at the sentries to overtake him, his rewarded were blank stares. "I mean I would think that our clearance should trump these yahoos."

Tripwire looked up from placing a container with the ball bearings into a padded case, examining the scene he sighed. "What are you thinking?"

"Why would they not want us in a room with a bunch of dead bodies?" Airtight pointed to the sign that read autopsy.

"Zombies?" Tripwire joked but his eyes narrowed as he thought about the guarding of the dead bodies, "It is odd, normally if they guard a room it's the files. Not the bodies."

"The Lab has finished with the tests." The lab tech Riley walked in holding the reports. "I hate to break it to you; but, there was only one C4 on the nodes. Sorry guys."

Tripwire nodded, at first glance he was taking what the lab tech said at face value. Airtight though had a feel for the EOD specialist, Tripwire knew his bombs. If by sight the man felt, there had been two different C4s on the connectors, odds where he was right. What the hell was going on here?

"As much as I hate to say it Jaye is going to be pissed." Airtight happy he was right; he still wasn't looking forward to the 'I told you so conversation'.

"She's not going to be pissed." Tripwire read the report.

"But you heard the tech." Airtight inclined his head over to Riley who was back at his terminal working on another case.

"I also know that bomb, there was no way there was only one block of C4, especially with the information that Jaye just sent." He showed him the text and the pictures she took. "They moved the bomb away from the baring wall. Take a look at the carpet." He showed him the indention. "The FBI wants us to leave."

"They were the ones that called us in." Airtight's confusion was growing.

"Because they want it to look like they are playing nice." Tripwire looked at him. "Odds are they know they lost this case so whatever is behind the door is their next big media spotlight."

"Why hide it from us?" Airtight wondering _what was so damn important behind the door_?

Tripwire followed Airtight's glare, "That question is more up Intelligence's alley."

"So our only avenue is to pack up, report to Flint and Lady Jaye about what is going on?" Airtight didn't like the sound of that, the two officers would not be happy that all they had were gut feelings. "So if Abby comes back with the same results?"

"Then we all need a vacation." Tripwire shrugged.

Before Airtight could respond Special Agent Kelly walked in wearing her sensible shoes. "How are you gentlemen doing?" Airtight and Tripwire couldn't help but hear in her voice 'are you two done yet I am tired of babysitting.' The woman really needed to take lessons from Lady Jaye on how to keep a poker face.

"You mean we haven't won you over with our winning personalities?" Tripwire picked up the timer prepping a case to ship it.

"No." The sneer was evident. She really needed to take lessons.

"So you _are_ in a hurry to get rid of us." Tripwire didn't bother to hide a smile.

"No I'm not," She gritted out. "I just have other cases. I would like to put this one to bed."

"Don't worry," Airtight stepped in to defuse the situation "Were just waiting for our guys to bring us a few containers, its slow moving due to the fact that they need an escort as well. A couple more hours we will be out of your hair."

Airtight looked to Tripwire for conformation of his statement; but, the man just blinked and narrowed his eyes. There are advantages when people have stereotyped you, Flint can play the dumb country boy to the hilt, Cover Girl does a mean ditzy blonde and Trip it's to his advantage in having the world think he is a klutz, when he does it on purpose no one thinks twice.

On his way back to the case he pretended to trip, the timer flew up in the air. Tripwire made an exciting show of trying to catch it only at the last minute he let it slip through his fingers. The timer shattered on impact. Tiny pieces of plastic skittered across the room plus something Airtight was not expecting.

"Good one Trip." It was hard for Airtight to cover his pleasure at his partners quick thinking with irritation.

"What are these?" Tripwire picked up a pin of the US flag.

"Lapel pins" SA Kelly picking one up that was the Do Not Tread On Me Flag. The third was a pyramid with the all seeing eye.

"Why put these in the timer?" Airtight picked up the pyramid looking at it strangely.

Tripwire groaned, "Who ever put them in there was making a statement, these pins mean something to them."


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Reviews do good things. showed me where I made a massive mistake thanks! Hey i'm human and my beta was falling down on the job he didn't catch it either.

* * *

Cover Girl learned, as NCOIC of the Joe team's motor pool, that the position was in constant flux. One minute she's pulling her hair out, complaining about being shorthanded, on her knees begging anyone who had the slightest mechanical skill for help. The other side of the coin is her wondering if she would get away putting sugar in the gas tank of a Jeep to have something to do.

This morning it was the latter, leaving Thunder to search the web for a new car and Cross Country watching the last season of Breaking Bad on his laptop. She enjoyed going out to lunch with the girls; then, she took the long way from the parking lot to the motor pool, stopping by Scarlett's office to giggle as the red head tried to eat the stew that Jinx had brought her from Izzy's.

On her return, Cover Girl noticed business had picked up since she was gone. At the moment Thunder was looking at one of the Camaros the check engine light had come on, the Joe was reading the issues on the diagnostic screen but was confused by the message.

She was about to tell him to check the fuel injection and clean out the carburetors when Cross Country's cry of excitement caused both of them looked up. "We got the 2016 Kawasaki klr650s." The country boy's excitement over the new motorcycles had him practically jumping for joy. "Can't wait to put these bad boys together."

"OH HELL NO." Cover Girl raced over to the crates. "Our orders are to take the fairings and get them painted, Lady Jaye is going to put the bikes together."

"Lady Jaye already has enough on her plate. She won't mind." Cross County said. "You know the Sarge." He started to open a crate.

"You obviously don't know the L.T." Cover Girl seized the crowbar from his hand.

"I forgot about that" Cross Country looked wistfully at the crates shaking her head Cover Girl pushed him away. "Whose Idea was it to send her to the dark side?"

"Hawk's." She walked over to sign for the bikes. "Before you complain, it was her or Beachhead."

Cross Country thought about it, Lady Jaye, though reckless, was one of his favorite NCOs, Beachhead on the other hand. "I'm shutting up now."

The NCO couldn't help but laugh, "Hey, Cover Girl, there was one more thing for you." The Green Shirt who had brought in the crates reached into his forklift handing her a long white box.

Immediately her curiosity was piqued, walking to her desk she carefully lifted the top. Gasping audibly, she couldn't believe the sight; there nestled in green tissue paper was an assortment of red roses and white lilies. Perfect in shape, color and size, they must have cost a small fortune.

Cross Country whistled watching her bring a bud to her nose taking in the smell of the ruby red flower. "Somebody's got an admirer."

A smile found its way to her face, she couldn't stop it. Carefully placing the flower back with the rest she pulled out the card. "If you drive like you fight and shoot, I can't wait for a ride. R."

"Now if that ain't a double meaning if I ever did hear one." Cross Country shook his head, "What did you do in New Orleans?"

Sadness crept up, looking down in the flowers. Oh, how she hated men. The flowers were exquisite, LeBeau had immaculate taste, unfortunately she couldn't accept these from him.

"Here I thought this was a motor pool." Cover Girl couldn't help but roll her eyes at the sound of the Alabama accent echoing in her domain. "Not a flower shop"

Cover Girl shut her mouth, biting her tongue she deciding her best course of action would be to listen to Bailey's advice: "Kill him with kindness until he is so freaked out that he runs for the hills. That gives us enough time to put fire ants in his bed." The blonde was more like Lady Jaye then she knew.

When she did open her mouth she had every intention of being civil, then reality set in. "You know, Beachhead, boys give flowers to a girl when they think she is pretty." She walked over to the counter pulling out an almost empty coffee tin, dumbing the nuts and bolts that resided in it, she busied herself with filing it with water. Maybe Beach would get the hint and go away.

"You also give them when someone dies." Beachhead shrugged.

She couldn't help but look at him like he was crazy. "Leave it to you to take something sweet, twisting it into something morbid." Placing them next to her monitor she smiled at how they brightened up the room. "Have you ever given flowers to a real, live girl?"

"I know it's hard to believe, I have had a girlfriend." He grumbled looking at the bouquet with disdain.

"A Girlfriend?" Cover Girl pointed out the use of the singular.

Blue eyes flashed with irritation. "I have given flowers to more than one woman."

"Your mother and sister don't count." The snark dripped from her lips, tomorrow she'd be civil.

He glared at her picking up the card her read it. "You have to tell Scarlett." He pointed at the flowers in the coffee can. "These are from LeBeau."

"Wow, you _can_ read." yanked the card from his hands part of it tore in his grasp. She sent him a scathing look. "You act like I don't know what I'm doing."

"Well" he looked at her, then to the flowers and then back to her.

"You know Alabama; I was a Joe long before you were." She crossed her arms her eyes daring him to say more.

He didn't disappoint "A tank driver is a helluva lot different than intel, Duchess." she wanted to pull down that stupid mask of his back over his face so she wouldn't have to see his smug expression.

'Duchess' of all the asinine nicknames, why the hell did he give her that one? "When did L.J. get back?"

"What?" Cover Girl took perverse pleasure in the confusion written in the man's eyes, so there was something that he didn't know. She took delight in being able to school him.

"Lady Jaye is the only real Lady on the team. I am not sure what her title is I do know that she outranks the Baroness in the royalty hand book." She looked at him. "Last I checked she was in Miami, so who the hell are you talking too?"

"Duchess" he baited her looking him dead in the eyes she hopes her stare conveyed her look of contempt.

Did he always have that green in his blue eyes, the emerald color circled the pupils then striated out. _Oh, Jesus_ his lashes they were so long. _No, no, no._ She needed to get him out of here. Away from her.

She felt her eyes widen, this cannot be happening. She refused for this to happen. Her expression must of spoke volumes looking up at him, she noticed him staring at her strangely "You all right, _Duchess_?"

"Get…"

Is he wearing old spice? The wood and nutmeg notes assailed her senses. Memories of her father before he passed away tickled her mind.

"Out…"

When did he get that scar in his eyebrow? Had it always been there cutting through, not letting hair grow. Did he know how hot that was?

"Of…"

Had he always been this tall? She had to crane her neck to look up at him. Cover Girl was five-eight in combat boots he had to be six-two.

"My…"

He found this funny, does he know what she was thinking how all of a sudden that she wanted to know why he looked at her the way he did. Why he carried a zippo; but, didn't smoke, what that tattoo was that would peak out of his white tank top. She wanted to know what would make him laugh, _really_ laugh. More importantly she wanted to know what his arms felt like holding her.

MOTORPOOL!"

"WITH PLEASURE" He yelled right back, but he didn't move he just stared at her.

A coughing noise brought their attention out of the staring match. Dialtone stared at both of them with a weird expression on his face. "Um Beachhead we've been trying to raise you on your cellphone. Flint's on comms for you."

Beachhead glared at her, then with a nod turned on his heal, leaving her feeling strangely bereft. She hugged herself watching the door close behind him. The weak part of her wanted to run after him, and do what? Cover Girl felt a bitter sweet smile play on her lips, thinking how he would react to such a declaration of affection.

Then there was her own heart. After Tommy betrayal she had promised herself she would never again sleep where you eat. Oh how she had loved Tommy, then his betrayal. It had touched so many Joes. She closed her eyes, how she had lost so many good friends that night. Glaring at the door that Beachhead had exited through she crumpled the feelings bubbling in her heart, shoving them in the back of her mind. She was not going to get a broken heart again by some stupid boy. Especially a mask wearing, Alabama-born Ranger who wouldn't know a good time if it hit him in the face.

* * *

A/N: Tommy being together at one point with Cover Girl came from a Fan Art.. I can't even remember who drew it and if anyone knows who did let me know please so I can give them proper credit. It was a Christmas theme With Cover Girl holding mistletoe over the Ninja's head. It came out right before people started being vocal about Cover Girl and Beachhead being together.


	15. Chapter 15

The clicking of the shower curtain did nothing to mask the yelp that Lady Jaye let out. There standing in front of her holding a dry towel was a very handsome Warrant Officer, laughing at her. "Did I scare you?"

A look of irritation crossed her face; lost in a replay of today's events she had not heard him walk into the bathroom. "Can I help you, Flint?"

"No," his eyes raked over her body in an exaggerated leer. Jaye laughed as he twirled an invisible mustache; looking like a silent movie villain. She felt her aggravation melt at him as he smiled down at her. He held out a towel for her; chuckling when she pushed at his chest to move away slightly so she could dry off.

Flint leaned up against the bathroom counter watching her wipe the water droplets off her body. Lady Jaye, enjoying basking in his desire, took her time, teasing him slightly at the sight of her naked body. Smiling at the look of disappointment on his face when she finished and wrapped the towel around her body.

She walked over next to him placing a kiss on his neck. Feeling stubble on her lips; she realized they had been going since this one this morning. It didn't look like they would see sleep anytime soon either. He brushed aside her bangs his thumb rubbing her temple where the worst of her scarring showed. His eyes softened as he took her face in, and as she gazed up at him, wonder filled her at how much she loved him. She reached up, brushing her lips against his.

She wrinkled her noise tasting the remnants of his cherry tobacco. Shooting him a glance full of daggers she went to apply her lotion when he placed a brown bottle in front of her. Peroxide. "You know what time it is."

"I think I got this." She beamed at him sweetly; as much as she loved her Warrant Officer she was not going to let him poke and prod things that already hurt.

"See, I don't think you do." Flint didn't believe her for a second. Unless under the effects of a narcotic painkiller, Lady Jaye can be an ornery patient. Not only was she known for her escape attempts from the infirmary, but, her complete disregard for things like profiles and doctor's orders.

"I will tell you, the same thing I told the EMT; I can clean and bandage my own wounds." She glanced at him with irritation, walking out of the bathroom. "I can't believe you don't trust me."

Flint was right behind her placing his hands on her shoulders and pulled her into him. "Lady Jaye, I trust three things in this world as the sun rises in the East. The fact that you are hopelessly in love with me, that you will be completely honest with me even when I don't want to hear it, and I always know that you will have my magnificent six."

Lady Jaye turned looking up at him, not believing that he could give himself a compliment while giving her one. "What makes you think your 'six' is worthy of the term 'magnificent'?"

"My six is very magnificent. It's nowhere near as amazing as yours; but, I think it's a very close second." Flint pulled her closer looking over her shoulder; so, he could have a better look at her backside. She felt his hand working on pulling up the towel that covered it. The Lieutenant gave him a look of mock indignation she slapped his hand away.

"Unfortunately baby, there is one point that I do not trust you on." Flint continued, he held up his index finger to emphasize his words. "Your ability to properly clean, bandage, and care for your wounds."

"Flint, I am a grown woman, I can take care of a shoulder wound." She glowered at him, hating the fact that his argument was closer to the truth than she would like.

"Duct Tape." He reminded her.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Feigning ignorance, she pulled away from him, picking up the remote that was laying on the bed. She ignored his look of humor and the desire to launch the remote at his head, she turned on the TV, surfing the channels she settled on reruns of a procedural crime drama.

"How can you not remember Duct taping your bullet wound to win our bet? I have to say it was genius and you did win." When Flint first the joined the team, she felt she this overwhelming need to prove to him she was not just the team's mascot. She had instigated a bet between the two of them which could run faster and who had a tighter shot grouping. The morning of the bet, she had decided to tape the stitches on her leg. All out of athletic tape she had turned to a roll of Duct tape.

She had blown him out of the water, but as her day wore on the stitches became tangled in the tape. It was her luck at the end of the night she had two choices the infirmary or him to help her to untangle the mess.

"If you hadn't you know I might be in Hawaii with that task force. Who could resist those white sandy beaches, surfing-" His lips descending on hers in a crushing kiss that silenced her. Her body reacted; causing her breathing to speed up. She melted into Flint's broad chest; enjoying the feel of his body against hers. He moaned slightly, reaching down he pick her up; wrapping her legs around his waist. Without breaking their kiss as he carried her to the bed.

Her body reacted pressing her chest against his. She had her hands on his belt buckle about to undo it when in a flash her face was looking at the silver embossing of the buckle. Looking up her eyes narrowed at the sight of him holding out the bottle of peroxide out shaking it. "FLINT!" She swore. "Trochę Oszust z niewielką kurek."

"Sit. Still. Lady Jaye," Lady Jaye felt Flint's elbow bring her head closer to his body; it took all her self-control to not bite him in that sensitive spot on the side of his hip.

Hours of sparring with her, Flint knew her dirty tricks. The Warrant Officer placed his left hand on the top of her head in an attempt to keep her from biting him. She swore as he started debriding the wound. The Bastard had everything set up. He had tricked her. "See, I told you; you needed to clean it. There was still asphalt in there." He held up a finger showing her tiny black spots residing on in the tip.

"Flint, baby." She motioned for him to come closer to her and then with a smile, she dug her fingers in that sensitive spot under his ribs tickling him. She smiled as his laughter filled the room; she took delight in both the retaliation and his boyish grin that crossed his face. Once he got her fingers to stop their assault, he sobered glaring down at her in mock fury. He leaned down kissing the tip of her nose, "What am I going to do with you, Lil' Bit?"

Translation: I love you. Flint, for all his eloquence and affection, was not one to say I love you. Growing up in the environment he did; before the Faireborn's adopted him, his biological father one minute that he loved him then in the next breath a six-year-old Dashiell Faireborn would get the belt for not moving fast enough on a task. Dash had become a firm believer in proving love; for a strange twist the English Lit major believed that those words could lose their meaning very quickly.

Placing his lips against her forehead, he tucked a stray hair behind her ear. With a nod, he went back to work he started singing an attempt to get her mind to focus on something else. A classic Johnny Cash song on his lips, it wasn't long before he was kissing her temple. She thought that was her cue to get up. She began to slide off his lap. "Where do you think you are going? I still have to look at that shoulder."

"I can take care of that." She backed away from him; but, his hands went to her waist stopping her.

Turning her around he shook his head at her; she knew there was no escaping his grasp. "I hate you." She leaned into his shoulder. He chuckled, pulling back her mass of hair so he could look at her. She groaned when she realized he had still had the bottle of peroxide in his hand. Flint grinned devilishly and pushed down on her good shoulder forcing her to kneel between his legs.

Lady Jaye decided that payback was a bitch; she looked up at him with a devilish smile. Biting her lip, she gave him a heated look. She laughed as his eyes got wide and he about dropped the bottle in his hand. It was his time to blush. He opened his mouth not knowing what to say; finally, he shook his fist at her and began working on her shoulder. "Changing the Subject," he cleared his throat. "While you were in the shower I spoke to Beachhead; he read his original report to me."

Lady Jaye looked up at him, when Flint made a mistake, he made sure he never made it again. What surprised her that he was already checking into where the breakdown of communication came from, "Jaye the report we had…" the Warrant Officer stared at her, placing the bottle next to him. She regarded the worried expression on his face; this was serious. "Someone digitally altered the report; after, Beachhead uploaded it to the server."

"Was it a breach of Cyber Security?" Panic rose up in her chest. As OIC of Covert Ops and Investigations, she had about a dozen Joes in the field at any given time. Many of them were in positions that if discovered they would be killed.

"No, but Scarlett is pulling out those Joes we can." Flint seemed to know where her thoughts were going.

Flint took her face in his calloused hands, one of those Joes was her brother. It would be impossible to pull him out, he was embedded deep within Cobra hierarchy, without a clear plan of action. Not doing so could be disastrous. Flint realized the need to change the subject; otherwise, she would be stuck on the topic for hours. "The ATF alluded that a body from the Swamp Riders was found in the Everglades National Park."

"Making it FBI Jurisdiction," Jaye swore as processed all the information, the ramifications of the Joe team having to deal with the FBI stumbling onto the body of the Dreadnock. "Whoever is doing this has to be someone within the Joe team."

"Why would the FBI remove intel on Monkeywrench being killed?" Flint's handsome face had confusion written across it. Jaye shook her head, the Dreadnocks like any other MC had a sense of brother-in-arms with their members. It would be reasonable to think that they would want a proper outlaw burial for their member. "So, those two dumbasses attacking you and Fi really was a failed attempt to get beer money?"

"This is Thrasher." She pointed out, the Belgium biker was moving fast through the ranks of the outlaw biker club. Thrasher might be the Dreadnock's 'rising star' he wasn't the sharpest crayon in the bunch.

Flint rubbed his face. "Don't remind me."

Lady Jaye moved to get up, walking to her duffle she routed through it pulling out a clean pair of jeans and blouse. Holding her deodorant, she looked at Flint. "You know Airtight complained about having to have an escort at the FBI field offices. He was a little put off by the whole experience."

She chewed on her lip, how she would love to see what the agency was up to. Flint groaned "No, we are not going to break into the FBI field office." Lady Jaye opened her mouth to remark, she watched him stand up and pull her into him. He shook his head cutting her off. "Just because we can doesn't mean we should."

She pouted, even though he was right, she did not have to like it. Flint chuckled kissing her protruding lower lip. "We'll focus on what is going on here, that doesn't include us causing a few felonies. We still have the kids to worry about and figuring out what Cobra's end game is."

Jaye nodded, then stopped; she just realized her fiancée's hands had moved lower from her hips to resting on the slope of the small of her back. Looking up at him to comment, she realized that his blue eyes were burning with desire as he looked at her. His fingers slowly, trying to be inconspicuous, had begun working at pulling up the towel.

Opening her mouth to tell him this might not be the best time, his expression tugged at her heart. Part of him was still on that road, looking at her unconscious form. At this moment he needed to verify she was solid in his hands. Not a ghost or a figment of his imagination; he wanted proof that this was not a dream that he might wake up from only to find himself in the morgue staring at her dead body.

"Flint, we have to go and help Michael and Fi set up for dinner," Jaye warned him.

"In forty-five minutes," his calloused fingers skimmed her chest as he became bolder in his efforts of disrobing her of her towel. "I have to do my duty as the Joe team's Executive Officer to make sure my Intelligence Officer is in top fighting form. You know, inspect every inch of her and make sure she doesn't need first aid."

Opening her mouth to tell him that a hands-on examination was not part of the XO's job description, she felt her towel drop. "Oh look right there a bruise," Flint pointed out something on her hip bone that looked nothing like a bruise.

"Flint, that's a freckle." She couldn't help but be charmed by his antics.

"Tomato, to _mah_ to," he shrugged, kneeling at her feet he let his lips touch the nonexistent injury. She had a sharp intake of air as his tongue traced up the bone.

"Oh look there is another. It's really small." This time right below her belly button. His mouth caressed her, nipping slightly at the sensitive skin. He moaned at the sight of the goose bumps he has caused. "Yeah I think that you need me to look over every inch of your body."

"Flint my right shoulder is what got hurt." She pulled his head up to look at her.

"Are you sure?" Mischief was sparkling in his blue eyes. He began pulling her down onto the bed, turning her so his body covered hers, the weight was so familiar, and her body reacted with want. "I see another one," his mouth on her ribcage his lips soft dragging across the curve of the bone. She moaned as shivers danced up her spine.

At that she gave up, surrendering to his treatment. Smiling to herself as he settled between her legs examining a tiny scratch on her thigh that was a few days old from her running into her desk at Ft. Colton. A little first aid would not be such a bad thing.


	16. Chapter 16

"I will not make promises I can't keep; but, what I do promise is that the benefits that our nation's heroes have watched erode away will be on my mind every day, if elected. Thank you."

General Clayton "Hawk" Abernathy watched as Presidential Candidate Justin Peterson looked at the crowd smiling, accepting the applause. He wondered how nobody picked up on that the man had promised nothing. Peterson sent a warning signal to the back of Hawk's mind; it was a subtle oily feeling that radiating from him.

Hawk turned back to look at the table; his empty water glass sat, a reminder of how long the luncheon had dragged on. Looking down at his watch he shook his head; it was now close to dinner. He held back a sigh, what was it with politicians and their long-winded speeches clamoring for votes? There wasn't an easier way that would take less time?

"Damn it," He turned to look at the attractive blonde next to him. Captain Sally Belvins, his aid, was swearing as her smartphone. The small device had blinked out; he watched as she tried to restart it. He glanced around the room realizing that she was not the only one having problems with their phones.

"Belvins what the hell is going on?" He watched her give the device a glare, similar to the one she gave a certain Sailor-turned-Pirate-turned-Joe when he came sniffing around her desk looking for a date.

"I don't like this." She smiled when the phone's screen became alive again, then frowned. Opening her messenger, she quickly sent out a text. "I think it's best to turn our phones off, sir." When a cheerful tone alerted her to a reply, the blonde looked mournfully down at her pink lifeline to the world. Hawk chuckled, the look on her face closely resembled what he saw with his teenage daughter at dinner time when forced to be disconnected from the 'real' world. "Well we won't get any more updates in real time about Miami or Bogota; but, we're close enough to post that if there is an issue they can send a runner."

The General nodded "Any updates on our ongoing missions?"

"Bogota was a success. Chuckles and his team are on their way back; Miami had an issue." She took a drink of her water which too was almost gone. She looked around to see if she could find a member of the wait staff.

"What kind of issue?" Hawk watched as Belvins turned back perturbed that there was no one to help her.

"It seems the twins made contact with Lady Jaye. There was a slight disturbance, in which Jaye did discharge her weapon. One of the twins contacted Major Blood for backup; so, she took one-eye out. She was then chased by Road Pig and Thrasher; the Dreadnocks said that they were going after her and a known IRA operative, turned Arms dealer by the name of Glenanne for beer money." The Captain then got up retrieving a pitcher of water, returned to their table filling both her glass and his. "The Dreadnocks took chase and well, long story short, Lady Jaye got ejected from the car. Our team traded shots with the biker gang. Culminating it Flint using one of Lady Jaye's Javelins to blow up the Thunder Machine."

Hawk sighed pinching the bridge of his nose; Flint and Lady Jaye were two of the best that the Joe team had to offer. Their track record was amazing; even if they did have a flare for carnage.

"The Miami-Dade police and the Florida District Attorney are happy, as long as we give them the credit for arresting Thrasher and Road Pig." She beamed. "Simply put, they want the credit for stopping the Dreadnocks."

Hawk sighed, it was not uncommon for other agencies to take credit for the Joe Team's work; it was an age old trick to keep the Anti-Terrorist unit from getting in trouble when members cause too much damage. The relationship with the Local LEOs was a give and take; next week the Miami-Dade could call them in for another Cobra issue and give the Team all the credit.

"Sir, Peterson is making his rounds." Belvins' comment drew Hawk out of his thoughts; looking up he saw that indeed the politician was making his way through the crowd exchanging pleasantries with those he passed. The Presidential Candidate was not hiding the fact that he was making a beeline straight for them.

"General Abernathy." Hawk noticed that he completely ignored Belvins. Overlooking a beautiful woman like her was telling. Either he was a saint or he had one thing in mind: impressing Hawk.

As Hawk shook Peterson's, he realized there was something familiar about the man, as hard as he tried the General just couldn't place where he knew Candidate from. As he stood there taking the man in, he stilled there on the other man's label was the Gadsden Flag. His feeling of distrust intensified he found him thinking that this man was the walking definition of snake-in-the-grass.

Seventeen years ago, Simon Lagos remembered, was the day that his life took a turn he would never have thought could of happen. The summer heat had finally broken, and the smell of fall was slightly in the air. Not like back home in Massachusetts, where the scent of decaying leaves hit you square in the face, in Georgia it was subtle. If you blinked, you realize the neighborhood kid are running up and down the street begging for candy.

One morning, in particular, he had been enjoying the cooler weather, as him and his squad ran through reflexive firing techniques along with bounding. There had been laughter as the newest member Gung-Ho had been policing brass disturbed a Copperhead. As they walked into the pit, the Marine had the Carcass of the snake in a Walmart bag trying to figure out just how to cook it.

Shortwave had been waiting for them worry creasing the communications expert's face. "Hey Battle, we got a call from Kestrel's neighbor. Allie is walking out in front of the house; nobody can get close to her." The younger Joe looked Raven dead in his eyes. "She's covered in blood."

They were out of the PIT in a flash, leaving the Walmart bag with the Snake carcass on the floor. They didn't even bother to check out military vehicles they jumped into their personal cars and was racing to a Farmhouse, twenty minutes from the post in a small town called Roswell. Memories of that drive still cause his toes to curl. They ran red lights, took a right-hand turn from the left lane and one-point Hawk had his Mustang on two wheels.

The Hart-Burnett children were allowed to run wild, within reason, and always under Izzy's watchful eyes. When Alison was tearing up the driveway on her small dirt bike popping wheelies, Mackenzie climbing trees and Bailey in the yard having tea parties with the Fairies. Izzy was on the porch barefoot, lemonade in hand, her cordless phone by her side and flipping through a magazine. One eye was always on her children. To have any of them walking outside without her around was odd; but for it to be Alison, who was home sick from school, covered in blood, Raven was terrified.

When he had gotten out of the car he swore, there stood Alison wild-eyed, Jack screaming on her hip, her tiny feet cut up from the gravel. As he got closer, he took in her pretty, white nightclothes covered in blood.

Alison opened her mouth he thought she would tell him what the hell happened; but, this unearthly scream ripped through her. The reaction was not uncommon, he had seen it too many times thanks to Cobra, it was hard to watch when the kid is a complete stranger; but, when it's your tiny, ten-year-old niece with a constant smile and infectious giggle, he couldn't stop the tears from falling.

Crunching on the gravel told him that Hawk, General Colton and Patrick "Spector" O'Hara were racing toward the house. Raven rose to join them; General Colton just shook his head "Stay with her."

In one afternoon, he found himself Uncle, Father, Mother, Big Brother and a host of other duties he never expected to befall on him. He had help, Roseland Hart-Burnett, Aiden's mother, had swooped in like Mary Poppins with a Duchess's Tiara.

In an attempt to bring stability to the kids he opened Izzy's a year later. He had driven by the converted general store built in the mid-1800 thinking to himself it was honest work and could keep the children close to the extended family that he had created for himself.

Izzy's filled a niche, simple southern food with local fresh ingredients, live music and dancing all the while paying homage to the men and women that worked at Ft. Colton.

The Bar was the Joe Team's gathering place, their second home. How many times has this been the first place that a Joe has run in screaming the news of impending engagement? Or Sadly enough, here is where shots of Jack are lit on fire to light the way for the fallen to find their way home. The drinker consumes the liquid, still flaming, to never forget the loss of those already gone. Then slammed down on tables to let the fallen know as they stood at the gates of Valhalla that their memory was still sharp in the brother and sisters of arms hearts.

Even for him, there were stories here: the bottle of Jagger thrown when he told Alison she was too small; there was no way she could be a good soldier. The bar stool at the end was where Bailey opened her acceptance to Veterinarian School the first of many decisions that allowed her to find solid ground after her parent's death. On the steps of the stage, Mackenzie sat telling them he was leaving on a mission and he didn't know when he was coming back. The table in the corner, there Jackson sat looking devastated when his first love became lost, a week later he was all smiles as he shared a plate of fries with his next love.

"Hey, Uncle Simon, we need more Jameson. The Guinness is about out; these Brits keep cleaning us out every time they visit." Simon's nephew interrupted his thoughts when he lugged a box of spirits from the well below the bar.

Jackson "Jack" Hart-Burnett, the youngest of the Hart-Burnett brood stood six feet tall, with jade green eyes, and dark chocolate hair. It always unnerved Raven, that though he had his father's eyes, how much he favored his mother.

Raven reached down pulling the crate up so Jack could finish his climb out of the basement unimpeded. The teenager wiped the dust off his pants, smiling his thanks and began making quick work of putting the bottles up.

Simon sighed, forcing himself to go back to the inventory, he wondered if he could pay Alison to do the tedious chore. Better yet, her best friend Shana O'Hara, or Scarlett, as she was known to most people loved this kind of thing. He might have to pay the Counter Intelligence agent more than his niece; but, it would be worth stopping the twitching of the eye he got when he had to run numbers.

As he was running the totals, he found himself stopping to watch Jack look over his shoulder. His nephew would turn to look every so often at a table that held three high school girls. He recognized the honey blonde who seemed to have captured his interest the most was Madison Abernathy, General Hawk's daughter.

Jack finally spoke to them, "You know, he ain't here."

"Who?" Madison turned her head looking around the room.

"Dash, he ain't singing tonight." Jackson's brow furrowed, he figured it would be obvious. Alison's fiancé would come around with a few other Joes on open mic night and jam a little if there wasn't a lot of people showing up to perform.

"Maybe, we're not here to see him." Simon's glee turned to dread. There Madison sat looking at his nephew with a secret smile on her face it was obvious who she was here to see.

Simon would have found Jack's face humorous if any other girl had caused his 'fish out of water' expression. Madison Abernathy being the cause of his nephew's appearance only caused Simon to groan. She was the daughter of General Clayton Abernathy. That spelled big trouble for the teenager and Raven.

He needed to get the boy out of the situation, before, it got out of hand, right under his nose. "Jackson, go help the guys close the kitchen." Jack nodded and made his way toward the kitchen. Simon groaned when he watched his nephew looked over his shoulder at Madison then he smiled.

Raven wanted desperately to text Hawk and tell the man to come down and get his daughter before Jack does something stupid like asking her out. He was about to act on that instinct when a voice broke his thoughts. "Jameson's on the rocks please."

Scotland was his first thought at hearing her honeyed voice dripping with a familiar brogue. Unlike his niece's smoke and whiskey speech, this one was lyrical.

As Simon looked up, all the air in his lungs came out in a whoosh. He nodded, not taking his eyes off her as he poured her drink in a smooth motion. Here was a face that could have sent hundreds of men into war. Crystal blue eyes framed by long lashes examined him. Her blonde hair was pulled up in that just got out of bed look that was so popular.

Turning, she placed her elbows on the bar, watching the band set up for tonight's Open Mic Night. Simon set the glass down on a cocktail napkin close to her elbow. He noticed a tattoo was peeking out of the back of her shirt, at the moment he couldn't make it out. His memory of her body he knew that it was a delicate Celtic stag.

She finally spoke in halting Greek that would have his grandfather turning in his grave. "Destro is acting strange," Her blue eyes cut into his. She took a sip the ice tinkled in the glass as they settled. Simon licked his lips dry from the realization that the only thing separating their lips was the lead crystal glass. "He is on his way to Miami."

His heart dropped, though being a reservist he did tend to go to morning briefings a couple of times a week. He highly doubted that Chrome Dome was in Miami for the white sands and Latin Loving. He pulled back from the blonde letting the information sink in.

She pushed a manila envelope towards him. She looked at him over her glass, with a sad smile. "There might be some interest in this as well."

He quickly took the envelope sliding it into his waistband, next to his 9mm, pulling his shirt to cover both, he nodded. He needed to let the Joe team know that Lady Jaye and Flint were in serious trouble. Destro was a formidable foe and often had it out for the team's Warrant Officer.

The blonde walked away from the bar; she chose a table near the group of giggling high school girls. Raven looked over his shoulder at her; Watching her play with the empty glass in her hands. He had to get this information to the team as quickly as possible. That look on her face was his undoing, just the sadness hidden so carefully. He saw it shimmering on the surface, growling, he turned on the balls of his feet.

He might be a soldier, trained to put the mission first; but his heart wouldn't listen. It screamed in frustration at all the two of them had put aside to keep their respective countries safe, to keep people dear to them safe. One extra minute, he prayed, wouldn't make a difference. Walking back over to Ealasaid, he pulled her body into his, searing himself on her lips. "Please, baby, be here when I get back."

The game that Raven's Highland Lover played was a dangerous one. She had been spying on Destro ever since the arm's dealer walked into a farmhouse killing Raven's sister and brother-in-law. Destro was a killer; the arms dealer had proven that fact time and time again.

Though he might have honor, it was the knowledge that when he found out that Ealasaid was doing how deep her involvement with the Joe team was, instead of shooting her in the back, she will see that bullet coming.


	17. Chapter 17

Flint looked at what was once the glittering ballroom; now, looked like a wonderland of childhood dreams; complete with a small ball pit that he had to fish Airtight out of twice. The kids were a great bunch, but they were full of energy. Thankfully, they had seemed to be just as happy with this impromptu carnival than on the beach. When Flint and Lady Jaye had come down to meet Michael and Fi he had been shocked to see, not just the Darabont staff hard at work, but also a group of workers wearing the familiar logo of Hart Hospitality.

The billion-dollar corporation owned several multi-level hospitality complexes. The CEO was none other than his fiancée's older half-brother, Christopher "Kip" Lagos. It seemed that, at some point, Alison had reached out knowing that they would need reinforcements. Though she has nothing to do with the hotels, she had mega pull. Who was going to say no to Kip's beloved little sister who was a member of the Joe team? At the moment, all was forgotten as the kids were getting restless due to rumbling stomachs and the need for naps.

"We're in big trouble." Airtight looked around the glittering ballroom of the Darabont. "I've seen that look; we're losing them."

"I have face drug lords, war lords, mobsters, and even a screaming nephew." Michael Weston's brown eyes got large as he surveyed the scene. "This, though, I don't know if were going to make it out."

"We're looking at this all wrong; this isn't a siege." Flint reminded them; his eyes fell onto a little boy who was sitting at a table. The seven-year-old was glaring at an empty plate, a death grip on his knife and fork.

"What is it then?" Tripwire watching as one little girl stared at him with unblinking eyes. He was sure she was sizing him up to see what parts of his anatomy would be the tastiest.

"Anarchy that we can't control." Flint moaned. "My experience is only with nieces and nephews; I can always give them back when I'm over my head. You, on the other hand, Airtight…"

"Having to wrangle two children, that have a fear of you taking away their Nintendo DS, is nowhere in this ballpark." His hand swept the ballroom full of hungry children. "This is thirty-five, stir-crazy children. If they turn on us, it won't be pretty. Maybe, FI could help us out?"

"Bite your tongue, man." Jessie looked at the CBRNE expert with wide eyes. "Fi would kill us if we even suggest that she knows anything about entertaining children."

"That's the point," Airtight mumbled.

Flint open his mouth, then closed it. He hated to admit it, but, facing an angry Fiona Glenanne was more appealing than dealing with this group of thirty-five starving seven and eight-year-olds.

It was then out of the corner of his eye he watched the hotel's owner, and Sam's girlfriend, Elsa Darabont pass him. "Be careful, they might take off a hand."

She glared at him, holding back a smile, she turned her attention to the crowd. "Okay guys, we got pizza and chicken nuggets!" The crowd screamed, deliriously happy. "Save room for desert, because were having ICE CREAM!" The roar grew louder, as did Elsa's smile. She giggled as she received hugs from excited children.

"No vegetables?" The hotel's food choice had Flint taken aback.

"Look, I am doing good NOT having them go all, Lord of the Flies, on me." Elsa glared at him.

Flint liked Sam's girlfriend; not only was she gorgeous, She was smart, possessed a quick wit, and was able to keep Sam on his toes. "Serving those kids anything green and leafy would be the tipping point."

The XO let his eyes scan the room; he supposed Elsa was right. These kids were on an American adventure. Leafy green was not part of this country's Cuisine of hot dogs, hamburgers and chicken fingers. Besides, the task at hand was keeping the kids calm, cool, and unknowing that their lives were in danger. He realized that forcing vegetables down their throats might not be the best of ideas.

He followed her to a table laden with food. He watched a small boy, about six, struggle to get to the pizza. "Need some help, big guy?"

The little guy turned and gasped, Flint had to admit that there was something about kids and their reaction to seeing him in his uniform, or any Joe, in their uniform. There was this mixture of awe and terror.

He went down on one knee, the sound of the piston engaging on his prosthetic captured the little one's attention. Flint smiled, pulling up the pants off his ACU; there his metal leg gleamed. It might not be pretty, but it was awesome looking.

The boy mouthed _cool_. Flint smiled, holding out his hand, "Flint."

The kid took his hand, pumping it vigorously, "Haroun."

"Well, Haroun, it looks like we have a little bit of a problem." Flint examined the table from this vantage point.

"I'm too short." He shrugged.

Flint grinned, "No such thing. No, you just have an obstacle." He shook his head pretending to examine the problem very seriously. Haroun giggled at his expression. Then he let his face brighten. "You know what you do with obstacles?"

"No." He shook his head.

Standing up, he picked the young boy and lifted him over the table. "You go over them!" He smiled as the little guy laughed with joy.

Haroun gave him a smile and a high five, his face beaming with a bright, white smile. Flint chuckled; reaching into his cargo pocket, he pulled out a gold package that read Harbo with a bear on them. Giving him a handful, he looked at the boy sternly and said, "For your Ice Cream, and share." Haroun looked at the bear and took a bite; his face lit up. As he was racing off, Flint found himself yelling again. "SHARE!"

He smiled as the boy took a seat next to a pretty girl with red ribbons in her hair, shyly giving her a bear. She, too, took a bite and smiled; his reward: a kiss on the cheek. "Careful, Faireborn, the rest of the men might think you're a softy." Flint turned, scowling as he looked into the brilliant green gaze of his fiancée.

"You saw nothing." He told her.

"For the right amount of bribery, I saw nothing." She pulled the gold package out of his hand. Removing an orange gummy bear, she wrinkled her nose and handed it to him. Looking around to make sure they weren't the center of attention, he ate it out of her fingers.

She looked at them then wiped the sticky off on his black uniform shirt. He glared down at her as her hands lingered on his shirt a little longer than necessary. She looked up at him shyly; it was apparent that her mind was drifting back to earlier.

He returned her gaze and smiled; he watched a crimson stain cover her cheeks. She pretended to be more interested in the bag than his heated gaze. He leaned in quietly whispering, so only she could hear, "If we didn't have the world to save, I would take you back to that bed." On purpose, he left the rest hanging, allowing her imagination to take over. What an imagination she had. In order to hide her, now cherry-red stained cheeks and wide eyes, she dug deeper into the bag.

He was itching to kiss the scar on the bridge of her nose; instead, he took a lock of her chocolate curls and tugged at it gently. Her green eye flashed, and memories of earlier flooded him, teasing him.

How he had started out the aggressor this afternoon in his administration of first aid. Somehow, in the end, she was the one in control; he thought how she had burned bright with passion. Her on his lap moving, not letting him touch her, but her mouth trailing fire on his skin. He could have overtaken her, and been in control, but why?

For him, with her moving her body taking him higher, it was like touching wildfire. The only difference was, when she burned him, she etched her name on his heart. He grinned at her expression, holding her gaze. Beside them, Sam chuckled "Ah, young love." Flint turned to glare at him, shaking his head, watching the former SEAL take a long drink of his beer as he walked away with a plate in hand.

They both looked at each other, knowing that they had been caught. Sharing a smile, she leaned in giggling. Shaking his head, he handed her a plate and, taking one for himself, he began the process of trying to find himself something out of this mess to eat.

There was a time that he could eat whatever he wanted and not really worry about things like cholesterol, high blood pressure or his waistline. As he got closer to forty, and the stress of his job began to show, he had begun to hear Doc say words like 'heart-friendly', and 'high cholesterol.'

Doc won the argument when he got engaged; the intrepid man looked and asked, "You would like to walk a future daughter down the aisle, right?" He had not gotten to the level of General Hawks smoothies and gluten-free obsession, yet. He was staying away from fried, greasy food and not eating red meat every meal, but once a week. Did they not know how hard this was for a Kansas farm boy? Who grew up on a cattle ranch?

Having settled on some chicken strips and French fries, he looked incredulously at his fiancée's plate piled high with chicken strips, a slice of pizza, and a hamburger patty. It was an amazing amount of food for anyone. Once you realize that she runs 8 to 10 miles a day, she carries on her back 40 pound quiver all day long, and her hobbies include motocross, dodging bullets, and reading, you wonder if that is enough food.

"I was thinking that, if we get a chance to sneak away, the locals were telling me that they have amazing, handmade burritos in a bodega across the street." She looked at him excitedly.

"Let's get through dinner, first." He smiled down at her.

He went to follow her, but an apologetic looking Airtight stopped him. "Looks like Tripwire has found our friends." The Warrant Officer followed the man's line of sight and swore.

"Look who I found." It was clear in his tone; Trip was not that excited about having Headquarters' Platoon Sergeant, and resident grump, Beachhead joining them. Flint didn't blame him.

Beachhead was the hard nose NCO that everyone dreaded. The Sergeant a stickler for the rules, and had no qualms dropping a soldier in the front leaning rest for the smallest infraction.

It was no secret that he and Flint frequently butted heads; in many ways they were too similar. The Warrant Officer would complain about Beachhead and often get a reminder of 'pot calling the kettle black'.

Flint liked to think he was more flexible that Beachhead. A baseball game for PT? The National Past Time was a cardio workout and also had muscle fitness covered; not to mention, there was the team and morale building aspects of the game. Radio in a combat vehicle? He had no problem with it as long as Cross Country understood that the TC picked the music, and the driver shut their cakehole. A little showboating at the range? The Executive Officer of the Joe team was still, to this day, known to show off a little for the Joe team's newest Butter Bar.

Like all great rivalries, this one wasn't because they were similar, it was about a girl. This girl was a Kansas farm girl with long, blonde hair, blue eyes, and a sweet smile. Dashiell Faireborn loved her. Sergeant Wayne Sneedon loved her. They were different loves. Beachhead had promised her forever; Flint had promised her to be the best damn brother he could be.

He had failed at that part. It had been an afternoon in London showing his sister the sights of his new home. They had gone to Brown's Hotel for tea, Agatha-Christie-style. One minute she is talking about her upcoming wedding, the next, she was gone. There was no warning, no way to fight back. Just a deafening explosion and him careening in the air.

There were no goodbyes; her last words were: "I hope Wayne gets a kick out of my cowboy boots I'm wearing with my dress. Get it..." She had giggled and then, nothing. She was gone.

The next thing he remembered was his body in pain all over; he was being moved, it wasn't even a gurney but men were carrying him on, what looked like, a door. They put him in a hallway of the London hospital, strapped down to a door and left him.

It was there that the horrific images of what Cobra could do burned into his head. Still, today, when his thoughts wander to dark places, he can close his eyes and see a little girl screaming in pain, half of her face burned off, holding a tattered teddy bear, begging for her parents who would never come for her because they sacrificed themselves to shield their daughter.

If only he had the chance; for years he thought how she should be alive, not him. It took him, of all places, standing in a mud covered hotel room in Hawaii watching the expression of the woman next to him whispering, "We did this."

He couldn't help it, he started laughing. Not his chuckle, not-normal laugh that he held back, but tears-streaming-down-his-face laughter. Almost like he could feel Marissa in the room with him. He got it then; every step, every misstep that lead to his amazing girl looking at him, not like he was a loon, but with confusion. With this by his side he had saved the world. With this woman by his side he was the best version of him. In that moment, he understood there was things he had done that, with Marissa alive, would never have been possible. As amazing as his big sister was, her death had steered his life into a higher calling. More importantly, fate sucks sometimes.

So now, as Flint watched Beachhead look around the room with confusion written on his face, he could take some humor out of it. It seems neither Duke nor Hawk had explained the situation to the Ranger. The Joe team's third-in-command thought it was for the best that Duke had kept him clueless. The Alabama son might have refused to come.

Luckily, Flint needed his skills as a Ranger more than his babysitting abilities. Flint couldn't help but grin as he listened to the team's resident grump growl, "What is this, Faireborn?"

"Didn't you get the memo, Beachhead?" Airtight snickered as he looked at the Platoon Sergeant's face. "This is the Miami recruitment drive."

Beachhead scowled at the CBRNE specialist, then gave him a sarcastic laugh. Before Airtight could retort, Flint realized there were only three newcomers. "I thought Duke said there was going to be four of you."

Beachhead looked around and swore. "Dammit, where the hell is Shipwreck?"

"Did you walk by the hotel bar?" Flint shook his head. Having recruited the sailor, he was well versed in the pirate's antics.

"Tripwire, Airtight, go get him," Beachhead growled. Giving Flint a black look, which the Officer returned with a sunny smile.

"I can't believe it! you were in charge, and you let a man slip away." Flint chuckled at Beachhead. He leaned in, examining the Ranger's strawberry blonde hair. "I think, that you have a few gray hairs coming in."

"Have you looked in a mirror?" Flint shrugged; about to turn thirty-five he was beginning to gray at the temples. There were also a few errant silver strands in his beard when he let it grow out. It didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. There was something about having his beautiful fiancée run her fingers over the area purring at how sexy it looked (her words) that made Flint not mind the small signs of age.

"Found him." Tripwire's walked back over to him, not bothering to hide his expression of aggravation. It seemed that the pirate had found his one kindred spirit in Miami, Sam Axe. Both men followed Tripwire and Airtight with beers in their hand. Flint thanked God that Chuckles wasn't with them, or they might as well put the command center in Carlito's Bar and Grill.

The Warrant Officer figured now was a good time as any to introduce Michael and his friends the newcomers. After the introductions and sending the lower ranking Joes to pull Lady Jaye away from a group of children. She was telling a story to the little ones as she munched on strawberries. Flint overheard the children groan as Lady Jaye started to leave, but their displeasure was quickly abated with someone yelling, "Who wants ice cream?!"

Beachhead sighed looking at the XO. "It's not good, Flint." Beachhead looked tired, and the Warrant Officer realized that he looked older than his forty years. "There is no telling how far back the reports go."

He went to ask Beachhead what Scarlett's next move was, when something in the Ranger's expression stopped him cold. "So, what else is going on?" Flint questioned him.

"Destro is in Miami. Echo seems to think that he's here to make love, not war," Beachhead had a look of doubt on his face. Flint didn't blame him; especially of late Destro's loyalties seemed divided. It was unclear, though, to what but he had refused to stand with Cobra on a few of their missions.

"Destro is a wild card at best. It's no telling whose side he is on: Cobra or his own. With what is going on here, right now, that spells big trouble for us," Flint sighed. "Let's hope he keeps his head down. Does Echo have any idea?"

"Echo wasn't a hundred percent sure. She was afraid to send us chasing after windmills because she wasn't sure what to make of the intel. Though she would talk with Raven more about it after he let us know the important stuff." Beachhead rubbed the back of his neck. "What she did tell Raven? Destro's Grenadiers are still in Garrison at the Silent Castle."

"What is so important that Destro would come here without his guards to talk to us?" Flint wondered looking at Beachhead.

"That is the million-dollar question," Beachhead said looking at the Warrant Officer. Flint watched as he scanned the room, his eyes falling on Lady Jaye. "We also have another…"

Before he could finish, Falcon interrupted them. "Now guys, I hate to say this, but, the real million-dollar question is 'What is he doing here?'"

They followed Falcon's gaze. Flint watched as a well-dressed man walked in, followed by a pretty blonde, and what looked like a small Army of business men and women. Elsa was already smoothing down her hair, looking terse in her eyes. Flint didn't blame her. The man making his way toward her was, none other than, Tony Stark.


	18. Chapter 18

_This is my Snake Eyes, this does get a little Cold Showerish, you have been warned don't own, Hasbro does, IDW does, and a whole bunch of other people you can sue you will get nothing but a broken pug, and and Netflix account..._

Snake Eyes situated himself into a kneeling position on the practice mat. Lowering his body into a deep bow, he never took his eyes off the small shrine across from him. Raising back up, he placed his hands palm up on this thighs, then slowly he took a deep breath to bring him wisdom and strength, exhaling the chaos and negative energy. Closing his eyes, he focused on what he wanted to achieve in this small mediation session: clarity.

The past few months he had been off balance. He wondered if he was forcing a chapter in his life to stay open when it was time for him to start a new one. It was entirely possible, but the problem was that he wasn't sure what the opening sentence should say.

His life had changed greatly since being burned. It took him months to reconcile that even his personality would be affected by such a profound change. But as of late, he found many parts of his old life returning. He had begun to draw again; they were rudimentary sketches, nothing like the grand pieces that he had done before. Then music had begun to fill his life again. Recently, he found himself listening to the radio as he cleaned his weapons.

He had even started showing his face, not caring anymore about the looks that he received. Often letting his visor and mask hang between his shoulder blades as he went through evening duties of paperwork, cleaning the practice area, and the occasional movie in the day room.

Even as of late he craved something he thought he would never go back to, the ocean. He wanted to skim through the surf, daring the pipeline to take him. At the moment, his board sat in the small room that he shared with Beachhead. It's only purpose was being a toe catcher for the Ranger. That served all the purpose he needed. Snake Eyes felt contrite about that thought during this time of meditation, but was sure that the Spirits would understand if they had to live with someone who constantly watched reruns of the A-Team.

He sobered, focusing back on the task at hand; the fact that his reenlistment papers sat on his desk at the moment. All he could do is stare at them. He knew Cobra would be defeated, but was he a part of that story, or did his purpose lie elsewhere?

He had been so lost that he had reached out to his old Sensei, the Blind Master. The old man did love his Skype and was happy to hear from his old student. His instructions were simple in theory: go back to basics. That some times a simple reflection of the foundation can reveal why the walls are not square.

Pulling his Katana to his side, he prayed for his hand to be steady and his heart to be true. Slowly, he pulled the blade out, and began the steps of his very first kata. Plain, basic, no finesse, the simple repetitive movements of the most basic of sword work.

He hated these simple kata; they felt elementary to him, artless. In his arrogance, when he first learned them, he had thought they were a waste of time, pointless, and now, he still felt that way.

Pulling the blade overhead, slowly he focused on every muscle holding the katana. He asked himself was his form right? What was he doing wrong?

He picked up on tiny mistakes and adjusted his grip, his stance mere millimeters. Finally, he opened his mind, trying to imagine an enemy.

Instead of a deadly foe like Zartan, Cobra Commander, or Ryan Reynolds, as had happened all day, when his mind wandered, he was looking at a water sprite. In this fantasy, she was coming out of the water, naked. Motioning her arms for him to join her. There was a time, in his studies when this particular goddess appeared he thought it was the ocean calling him to worship it. The siren was calling him to ride her offerings, and when he did follow her lead the waves had been righteous.

This time the goddess's visage had changed; so different from the dark haired beauty he had seen so many times. This one was blonde, with hips like honey and smelling like the ocean at dawn. Even her visage was different, even more beautiful and very familiar. That elfin-like face covered in freckles, almond shaped aquamarine eyes and bee-sting lips which easily curled into an impish smile. It was none other than...

Bailey Hart-Burnett.

He hated to admit, from memory he could plot ever freckle across her face, he knew every slight variation of each striation of green in her blue eyes and the smell of the sea clinging to her, even in a land-locked town of Atlanta.

He was brought back to this morning, his mouth drew up into a wide smile, pulling at the scars on his face. A reminder that action was something he didn't do nearly enough. Water nymphs should not have such dirty mouths like hers; part of him liked it. She even had used his favorite curse words over and over with such venom and passion.

Then she had stilled, her face spoke volumes; it hadn't been that long that he couldn't recognize desire. How he wished that he had voice to call to her to watch her slip out of her clothes and join him. His feelings had stopped him cold and the fact he kept going to that place, that time, meant something.

He sighed, loud, his vocal cords stretched and the noise was not the prettiest. Note to self: next time his face was on fire, do not inhale hot air. He chuckled slightly. Who would have thought he would find humor in his situation? Reminding himself of the task at hand, he pulled his blade down into a slow controlled slice.

Then his thoughts tumbled back to Bailey; many of them were not honorable. Oh, they could be very honorable, if he went in with pure heart, pure intentions, and she was a willing participant with the same mindset. He sobered when he realized that it had been five years since he had any real human touch. Was he just latching on to the first pretty face that looked his way? Was she interested in him, or was that part of his imagination?

He knew the answer to that: no. From the moment she returned from New Orleans and slid up to him, took his lunch order, then proceeded to tell him that more people die from vending machine accidents than shark attacks, he suddenly realized that he needed to see her again. For months she would tell him a fun fact everyday after putting his order in, then she would slip a cookie, warm and gooey, in with his lunch.

When she started working as a Veterinarian and left the Lunch crowd, he realized he missed her presence behind the bar. It wasn't just the cookie or the fun facts; it was those sparkling eyes and smile that pulled him in, and he silently ached to be near her. Oh, he had tried to not think about her, even lying to himself that it was the daily facts, he found the website she used, one of those that email you daily. Reading on the screen the that nearly 3% of the ice in Antarctica was penguin urine, didn't have the same effect as her leaning in close telling him like it was a secret between the two of them.

He had never thought those things she did was anything more than her innate sweetness; this morning had put her actions into perspective. Why did his mind keep going back there? Focusing on that look on her face; she stood there biting her lip, her blue eyes almost indigo with desire. She was a few hundred feet away, he told himself, he was just imagining her expression.

With a resolve to push that memory out of his thoughts, he put his Katana to its final resting place. For five years he had focused on balancing his anger at Tommy and getting burned. Swearing, he realized he actually lost the balance that love could bring him. It dawned on him, why he was having such a hard time figuring the next words of his chapter: he had hope.

Hope that they would beat Cobra, hope that his Dodgers would actually win the World Series this year, and hope he was reading Bailey's expression correctly at the creek. That, maybe, his future lay with this blonde wave rider; he smiled to himself wondering what that path would look like.

Feeling more at peace with his thoughts, he went back his knees. Placing his sword in front of him, slowly, thoughtfully, he went through the ceremony of bowing off the mats. As he thanked the spirits for wisdom, he heard the door to the practice room open. In disbelief, he watched a woman walk in; she looked at him with a quizzical expression as his jaw dropped. He was staring into the big blue eyes of his Water Nymph, herself.

Part of him wished he had his cowl and visor on; he bent his head down, but then realized if this was going to work, if he had a chance, he stared up at her letting her see him scars and all. Looking up at her he expected her to run out screaming in horror, not smile shyly, chewing on her lip thoughtfully. There, in those eyes, was the same look he thought he had imagined.

Warmth, curiosity and a slight blush covered Bailey's face and her mouth curved into a smile. He realized that her thoughts were going back to this morning as well. She opened her mouth, but as she scanned the room, she realized that she had walked in on his mediation, "I am so sorry."

He motioned for her to continue to the mats; unlike her sister, Bailey was long and lean. She had a powerful body, carved for the activities she loved like surfing and horseback riding. Like her sister, it seemed that she had one trait in common with her sister. Snake Eyes couldn't help but thank God for that; he had no shame in admitting he was an ass man.

"Wow, Scarlett wasn't kidding about Allie having handholds on the ceiling," she giggled.

He could listen to her talk all day; her accent was southern, but certain words would come out accented with a Scottish Brogue. He wondered if she took after her sister; when Jaye got really mad, the south fell away, and all you heard was the Highlands.

He regarded her as she scanned the room, she turned to him, a bright smile on her face. It was then he noticed on her bare stomach was a small, white disk. Tubing attached to the disk ran down from a small device hooked to the waistband of her pants. To many people, it looked almost like a small pager.

The device kept Bailey's blood sugar's regulated. The Chocolate Lab, sitting next to Bailey, waiting with a red vest on that read on one side Diabetic Service Dog; the canine's purpose was to let her know when the pump wasn't doing its job. Proof that her life had one point taken a dangerous turn, the disease that plagued the girl's life now was thanks to a powerful toxin. Doc had saved her life, but, she was a walking reminder that not all evil was perpetrated by Cobra.

The Lab turned and looked at Bailey, patiently waiting to see if she would release him to check out the other canine in the room, his wolf Timber.

Bailey winked at Snake Eyes, "Roscoe," The Lab went to attention, but, his butt wiggled slightly. "Whoopi," with a small motion of the hand and the dog was gleefully released.

Snake Eyes smiled to himself as the dog shot up to go check out a potential date for the night. Leave it to Timber to get more action than him. "Roscoe can be a brat, Timber, watch him. Oh, and don't fall for his pretty lies; he's nothing but a hound dog."

Bailey placed her bag on one of the chairs; digging around she pulled out what looked like a small smartphone. Placing it on her finger, a loud click echoed in the silent room. Her face pouted as she squeezed her finger to draw out a few drops of blood to the tip. Turning the device, he watched as she placed her injured finger to the sensor. A few seconds passed, the chirp alerted her the devices was ready, she read the readout on the screen. The numbers must have met her approval as she tossed the monitor on top of her bag, and she started unhooking the tubes to her stomach. She placed those and the pager device where she would remember, by her water bottle.

He nodded, wondering what game Scarlett was playing; she knew he was going to be here because she had asked him if he wanted to join her and Duke for a quick dinner before they went back to the reports just minutes before. He was beginning to worry if the redhead had taken to many blows to the head fighting Cobra.

Turning to her bag, she pulled out what looked like two iron pipes the length of her forearms. "You wouldn't want to go a few rounds?"

He shook his head, even before getting burned most people didn't come up to him as ask to spar with him. The girl was spunky, he would admit, she intrigued him. He seriously thought about it until the smell of hibiscus hit his nose. Images of where a sparring session could lead teased him.

He quickly tried to stop the blood from rushing to a particular part of his anatomy; it took him thinking of Shipwreck in drag (a sight he had seen in the not-too-distant past) to calm himself down. He thought it wise that he does not get that close to her, so he shook his head, "No."

"I promise to take it easy on you." she cajoled him.

He looked at her in shock, which caused her smile to grow bigger. Mischief sparkled in her eyes; most people misunderstood when they heard that Bailey wasn't as impetuous and more analytical than Jaye. The immediately thought that she was somber and reserved. When they did meet her, they were surprised at the young woman that they got.

Bailey was just as crazy as her older sister; the only difference was the younger Hart-Burnett used something that Lady Jaye often forgot that she possessed: common sense. Snake Eyes knew, as she looked at him, she had an end game rolling around in that pretty little head.

The thing was, he had no clue what she was thinking. It could be anything from sizing him up as an opponent, to distracting him enough to allow a group of Joes to sneak past him to Beachheads office and glue everything to the celling again. Honestly, the latter would piss him off, because they didn't ask him to help.

He couldn't help but be a little apprehensive at what that might be. "No," another head shake.

He watched those eyes of hers darken; she brazenly let her eyes rake his body making obvious that she liked what she saw. "We can settle the age-old debate: Ninja versus Thief." She leaned in slightly, studying him; was she trying to gage his reaction?

Another thing he realized; where her sister was clueless about any member of the opposite sex, except one tattooed, scarred, arrogant Warrant Officer, Bailey had, at least, a rudimentary knowledge of how to flirt.

A small part of him screamed 'tell her to get out'; this creature was nothing but trouble. She was brave enough, strong enough and perfect enough to make him care more than he deserved to. That voice was quickly and summarily shut out. It might only go as far as this moment, whatever this exchange was, but that didn't change the fact that he wanted her to come a little closer so he could see if she tasted as sweet as she looked. The simple fact that she aroused a feeling he hadn't had since Paris when a wild slice of a Katana hit a gas line and the spark it created caused an explosion. He wanted to see where this played out.

So, he did what any man in his situation would do: he motioned for her to go on the mats. He allowed his gray eyes to examine her backside as she walked away from him. He went to exhale the imperfect thought the sight caused him, then, thought better of it. There was nothing impure about the thought as long as he didn't act on it, if she was not willing to allow him. Part of him hoped she would be very willing.

Just because he wasn't going to spar with her, didn't mean he wouldn't watch. The Thieves guilds secrecy was legendary, and to have the chance see a thief on the practice mats was an opportunity he could not pass up.

"Suit yourself," She said brightly holding up her iPhone she asked, "Do you mind?"

He shook his head "No," again; turning he went to pick up a small mess that the last class had failed to catch when they policed the area before they left. He was putting up two practice staffs that were leaning up against the wall when the first chords of The Cult's Fire Woman filled the practice area. Turning, he watched as Bailey practiced a Bojutsu kata. Unlike his slow practiced movements, he had performed earlier, hers were rapid and fast.

He walked closer as she slipped seamlessly in the next kata. The base of her foundation was strong, add the acrobatics that the thieves' guild was known for and a strong dance background, she was good. It dawned on him that she was what her sister could be if Jaye just applied herself.

He watched as she took the two separate pieces of pipe and attached them. Placing one end of the staff, she had now created, on the ground, she lifted her body up. He watched as she balanced herself on top of this six-foot staff with one hand. She pulled her legs to each side; then using every inch of concentration she possessed she pulled them behind her. She contorted her body, till her feet rested on her shoulders, reminiscent of the acrobats in the circus.

He wished he had a voice, so he could yell at her that now she was showboating. It was common knowledge that thieves were a bunch of show-offs. He watched her eyes rest on him; contortion had its place in her past life. When you are sneaking into places you're not welcomed, you have to get creative in your hiding spot.

Her head tilted, he watched a slow sensual smile cross her lips. With a slight nod of her head, she let herself drop down from her balancing act. As she landed, her staff hit her across her shoulders, the two piece fell apart. She caught both ends with a grin, twirling them in her hands.

Without missing a beat, Bailey began to work through a kata built for an opponent with a bladed weapon. As the form reached its conclusion, she smiled over at him; repeating it, this was his last chance to join her. Shaking his head, he knew he should go to his office, put distance between him and the smell of hibiscus.

He could fight what he felt, his life would go on. Neither of them would die if they didn't get together. Bailey was beautiful, smart and kind, somebody else would snatch her up in an instant. She would be fine if he didn't make a move, but would he be? It might not work, he might get his heart broken, then again, he might break her heart. It could be wonderful, though. Filled with light and wonder. How would he know if he didn't try?

Unsheathing his Katana, he twisted it in his hands so it indexed with the flat side at his 'opponent'. He waited for her to block a downward slice block and he stepped in.

"I thought you didn't want to spar?"

He shrugged, he let his own eyes rake over her body, two can play this game he thought. She grinned; sliding back, biting her lip, she moved on the offensive.

Snake Eyes felt a piece of him clawing to be free. It had been caged for far too long, overshadowed by the anger, sorrow, and well, a little bit of self-pity. Joy bubbled in his throat as he felt the long forgotten feeling. He wanted to play.

The kata was quickly forgotten; it was Snake Eye's time to show off. Like a worthy opponent, she wasn't going to let him. He'd swipe, she'd block, then spin, she come back at him, which he would block.

At first, they rewarded hits with laughter and claps on the back as they reset. Then pats on the back as the session progressed lingered, hands moved lower, as the laughter turned into heated exchanges of looks, neither hiding the desire they had for the other's body.

He figured that this would be their last head to head. As amazing of an opponent as she was, there was the real possibility of her blood sugar dropping too low. He didn't want to end, what, he was considering a very nice, impromptu first date, with Doc screaming at him.

He held up his finger, letting her know this one was the last one. She pouted. If she only knew he had a plan to extend tonight out: dinner.

Her pout turned to a smile. "Guess we better make this round count. It decides the fate of the whole question."

He could take that comment at face value; that she was talking about her earlier question Thief versus Ninja. Even though he had been out of the game for a while, he knew she was alluding to something else.

With a nod, he went into his fighting stance, in sparing matches there is the unspoken agreement not to hurt each other. But that didn't mean that he had to go easy on the Thief. She had proven to be a worthy opponent, quick and cunning. He was enjoying his dance with her.

He took the offensive with an overhead slice of his katana, she blocked and grabbed his arm quickly, with the tip of the poles sending electricity through a pressure point. The jolt though, not painful, forced his grip to loosen, and the next thing he knew she was smiling, holding the sacred weapon in her hand.

Thieves, he narrowed his eye. Members of the clan preferred the staff, but they were well versed in bladed weaponry, and many could wield them with deadly results. He thought of all the ways he could get it back, but there was a very specific position he wanted her in. Instead of flourish and finesse, he went a different route: he tackled her.

He brought her to the mat. Though she 'umpfed,' it was more out of surprise then anything else as he had slowed their descent. Now she was where he wanted her, his weight on top of her her, her hands on his back still. The fall had caused her blond hair to fall in her face, and he reached down pushing it away.

Gray eyes meet blue; he heard her whimper with want. That was it: he was lost and he liked it. Adjusting himself to cover move of Bailey's body, her breath hitched in her chest. He watched a fire ignite in her aquamarine orbs. A certain part of his anatomy reacted to her desire and he didn't bother to think of Shipwreck and his medley of songs from Cabaret.

That chapter he had forced to stay open, slammed shut; the next one simply started. Then, the disfigured hero met a girl, she made him smile, made him want to play, and more importantly made him want to show her up on a surf board. Bailey didn't heal his scars; nobody ever has that power. What she did have, was the power was to show him that he wasn't as damaged that he thought.

He laughed, it was rough and ugly, most people would stare at the noise. This amazing woman smiled widely; her eyes danced as she reached up and touched his face. She pulled down on his neck; he felt his whole body slam with need as her lips brushed his.

It was hesitant at first, waiting for him to show her that his thoughts were going the same direction as hers. He gladly exhibited that he was, as he deepened the kiss, pulling her into his arms. He ignored the voice in his head that wondered if he was insane, that he hardly knew this girl. What are you thinking?

It shut up as her tongue hesitantly entered his mouth. He growled in response, which sounded inhuman to his ears, just made her bolder as she desperately pulled at his compression shirt loosing it from the waistband of his pants.

Her hand finally found what it was searching exposed skin. Five years without a woman touching him like this his body reacted accordingly. Pressing up against her stomach was rock hard proof of his desire. "Oh, God." She moaned.

Bailey melted into his chest, pressing every inch of her toned body into his. His mind was already working on the tactics of tonight: what parts he wanted to worship first, what parts needed his undivided attention.

He moved his hand up her stomach, his fingers on the band of her top, he broke the kiss looking down at her for permission. She pulled at him to come back, her breathing ragged, and her body arched towards him. He let the pads to the tip of his fingers brush the sensitive skin where her breast began to swell.

"BAD PUPPIES!" The voice of the team's First Sergeant affected them like a bucket of cold water thrown on them.

He meant to say, "You have to be kidding me, Duke." What came from his mouth was a series of growls and guttural moans. He had forgotten, in the moment, just how disfigured he was; he half expected Bailey to look at him with revulsion. Instead, she was giving Duke a look of exasperation, her fingers tracing his hips. She turned looking up at him snuggling closer into his chest, she reached up touching the worst of the scars that went through both his lips. She bit her lip, sending him a heated look.

He went to sign for the First Sergeant to leave him alone, that he was off duty. He realized to do that he would have to let go of the woman in his arms; he wasn't ready to do that. So he shot the man his 'don't mess with me' look.

"You might be able to intimidate others when you look at them like that, to me you just look constipated." Duke shot back.

Snake Eyes opened his mouth and closed it. He had to remind himself that in the fifteen years of their friendship, that went all the way back Charlie Co., Wolf Pack out of Ft. Benning Georgia, somewhere along the way, he had done something to that deserved that comment.

Snake Eyes glared down Bailey, who was giggling at Duke's observation, he pulled away to have both hands free. She gave him an exaggerated pout when he broke contact. "I deserved that." His hands moved quickly.

Before being burned, so many years ago, in Mosul, Snake Eyes had been enjoying down time in one of the USOs with his squad. He had to admit that, back then he never would have been here with the same players. Duke, who, at the time, was just his squad leader, was trying to play a video game with Roadblock who hadn't changed a bit (except he had hair back then). Tommy was getting guitar lessons from a young Specialist they called Romeo. The Kansas farm boy had a voice like velvet and a way with the ladies, as proof of the girls that surrounded them from the MTF, all with their perfect buns and PT shorts rolled up a little bit. They all knew what happened to Tommy and he was surprised, one day, to see Romeo walk into the hospital room to see if, 1: he remembered him and, 2: Introduce himself as the new Executive Officer, Flint.

That afternoon in Mosul, Scarlett had walked into the USO looking for them. It seemed that the pretty red head was leaving the 'Sandbox.' She had gotten reassigned to Marietta, Georgia. They all liked the pretty Sergeant, Duke more so than the rest of them. For months the whole squad painfully had watched him try to get the nerve to ask her out and yet again he was trying desperately to tell her he would like to come visit her.

Snake Eyes and Romeo had shared a pained expression he was crashing and burning. The flames of his terrible descent into the hostile enemy territory known as 'The Friend Zone' burned brighter than Scarlett's red hair. So he and Tommy decided to help him out. They did what anyone would do in their situation: they pantsed him. They were assholes to each other, that's how it worked. That's how you knew you were liked, even now, those he truly considered friends razzed him and irritated him and he did it right back. There were lines not to be crossed, however: never insult a man's mother, never mess with his beer and never steal a girl from under a guy if his intentions were known.

"Yes, you did." Duke chuckled as helped him up, bringing his thoughts to the present.

"In my defense, you married her." Snake Eyes quipped back, "At least she knew you had something to offer her, because brains certainly were not one of them."

"Scarlett has a few questions for you two. She needs some insight on a laundry list of things, and, strangely, you two might be able to help her." He glared at them. "Don't worry, it won't be long. Then, you yahoos can go back to whatever you were doing."

"What's up?" Snake eyes hands moved quickly.

"Scarlett needs some insight on a few things." Duke glared at him quizzically, "she would like an abbreviation form of all things Clans, Guilds, and New Dawn. Something that the two of you have unique knowledge of."

"Beachhead was right: those flowers looked like funeral flowers," Snake Eyes signed.

He looked over to watch Bailey plugging the tubing back to the receiver on her stomach. Then she picked up the small black device and started the process of checking her blood sugar counts again.

"Was he sending a message to Cover Girl?" Duke asked Bailey. "Could those be the 'Flowers for you Grave' Mafia type message?"

She chuckled, pulling a protein bar out of the bag, Bailey opened it took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "LeBeau might be a suave man about town, but flowers tend to be his weak game. Chock those up to 'the man doesn't understand subtle' when it comes to courting." She, then, smiled slowly.

"LeBeau, is courting Cover Girl?" Duke looked at Bailey, amazed.

"LeBeau's wife died two years ago. His mourning period is over. Let's hope he is just testing the waters." The former Thief shrugged, "Remy will follow old school southern etiquette. We will know when, and if, he is asking her out."

Bailey made her way out of the training room, Roscoe at her heels. Snake Eyes let his eyes take in her ass. He wondered if he took a bite of it, would it taste sweet, like her? He let a slow smile cross his face.

Duke chuckled at him, shaking his head. "My friend, a little bit of advice: wear a belt."


	19. Chapter 19

"Just because my grandmother would drop everything to help you, doesn't mean you can come in here and beg for favors." Assistant District Attorney Maria Pena looked through narrowed eyes at Remy LeBeau.

He pouted up at her, his mismatched eyes giving her an adorable look that, once upon a time, would have worked in his favor. This was not one of those times. She sneered as she poured coffee from her French press into two oversized cups. Then, without spilling a drop, she took the sauce pan of heated milk and sugar and hastily poured that into the scalding caffeinated mix. To top it off, she dashed cinnamon on the top of the drinks.

"This is a long way from the swamps, boy," Marie leaned against the counter examining him. Remy leaned forward, allowing her to look at him closely. He couldn't help but feel that her chocolate eyes were boring into his soul.

She scowled at him. He smiled back. LeBeau had known Marie Pena when she was Marie St. Croix, all legs, and big brown eyes. She was his first love; wild and unsure. Like most young love, it ended when she went to college, and he had a legacy to fulfill. "There was a time you would have helped me, with out complaining."

"I was sixteen, and you have pretty eyes, for a white boy." She placed a plate in front of him containing an oatmeal cake.

Remy couldn't help but look up at her with a cocked eyebrow. He remembered these little snacks. They were the kind that come in little wrappers from the grocery store. "Sue me, if you want beignets you go to Café du Mode, you want a reading, you keep your mouth shut and eat your Oatmeal Pie that Little Debbie made."

Before Remy could comment, the unmistakable sound of an eight-year-old excitedly running on hard wood floors could be heard. He watched as a young boy emerged racing through the kitchen followed by his father swearing in Spanish, then in English. "Isiah, slow down."

Remy watched Isiah slide to a stop in the middle of the kitchen, without missing a beat the little guy started chattering away about school. Remy smiled as the boy began to tell a grand tale of how a frog had gotten loose in science class.

Remy felt a sadness fill his soul, his own little guy, or girl, would be two years old now if Anna had lived, getting into everything. Peering into his coffee cup, the Prince of Thieves took a deep shaky breath to ease the pain the ripped through him.

His sadness dissipated when Marie's husband's voice, Rick Pena, boomed with his Boston accented voice. "What's the Head of the Thieves' Guild doing in my kitchen?"

"Detective Pena." Gambit chuckled in his coffee cup, "So good to see you, and it is the alleged Head of the Thieves Guild."

He smiled. Holding out his hand, ignoring his wife's instructions of 'don't encourage him, Rick.' "You doing good?"

"Can't complain." Well, Remy could, a little. The over-the-counter crap wasn't cutting through the hurt. He was sure that four hundred milligrams of Advil wasn't designed to stop the misery of a gunshot wound.

Rick walked over to his wife, giving her a hug and kiss, he then poured himself a cup of the coffee, with less grace than his wife, but forgoing the milk, he added Tabasco sauce to it. Both Remy and Maria look at him, making expressions of disgust. The Detective chuckled and took a seat next to the head of the Thieves Guild. "So Remy, what do you know of last night?"

"What I saw on the news?" Remy shrugged. He was not about to admit that he had a hand in the Battle Royal last night between the Dreadnocks, Cobra, The Mexican Cartel, Thieves' Guild, Assassins' Guilds and the two members of the Joe team.

"That bandage wouldn't be keeping a gunshot wound clean, now would it?" The man pointed at the white bandage barely visible under his blue polo.

Remy looked at him offended. "This is not a bullet hole, I was rough housing with my cousin Tuner La Fitte and Fluffy decided to join in on the fun."

"You expect me to believe, that Fluffy, a 300-pound gator gave you a love tap and all you need is that little bandage?" Detective Pena glared at him and shook his head.

"What can I say? Fluffy loves Remy, non?" He smiled; Pena looked at him, not believing the lie.

Detective Pena sighed, rubbing his face. He was not going to get a confession any time soon that LeBeau was a head of the Thieves' Guild. "Let's say if you knew something about last night, would you have expected Beau Richards to be there?"

Remy looked at him "Spy Guild ain't the type. They think they are above all the 'dirty work'. So seeing Beau Richards would be strange, him being the head of the Guild and all." Remy might not admit he was the head of the Thieves Guild on the record, nor would he out the head of Assassins Guild, his ex-wife Bella Donna. Beau Richards, on the other hand, was an asshole and his three bratty offspring were as sadistic as they came. He had no compunction about outing them. "Why do you ask?"

"Because Beau Richards was found dead this morning in his car on the same block that there was a wild west shoot out. It did seem like he got all mixed up in the cross fire. With closer examination though, it looked like all those bullets were trying to hide the true way he died. If you ask me the schmuck was really killed execution style somewhere else." Pena shrugged. "The funny thing, neither you nor Bella Donna knows anything about it. I figured that would be pretty big news."

"Can't say I'm sorry to see him gone." Remy sighed, rubbing his temples. "That is big enough news to call a Conclave, unless his little shit of a son, Grayson, wanted to take over the Guild quietly, with out intervention."

"Bella said the same thing. I know you two run unified on many subjects. If Grayson took over the spy Guild, why would that be worse? Beau Richards and his flunkies were thought to be behind your wife's death and about killing that friend of yours."

Remy shook his head. "Beau has been accused taking questionable contracts over the years, and his son Grayson is not any better. In fact, rumor has it that Grayson is somehow connected with the Dreadnocks."

Rick whistled. The Dreadnocks had a local chapter in the area called the Voodoo Kings, though they kept them out of the French Quarter, they caused havoc in other more undesirable areas of New Orleans, not to mention the fact that they terrorized some of the bigger families living in the swamp. "Officer Flannery La Fitte told me the same thing. I didn't ask how she came by that information, but I know that the La Fitte's have come to your aid but more importantly the Joe team, seeing as Et La Fitte is a member of the Joe team."

Remy grinned, "Alleged member."

Rick laughed. "I'll leave you two be." He kissed his wife. He left with his son in tow to decide the fate of the Pena World Cup on PlayStation.

Marie rolled her eyes and smiled at the sound, then looked at Remy. She noticed his wistful look, "Your time will come, I promise." She walked over to a cupboard and pulled out a small coffee canister it was aged and weathered.

"Come, I do this because that face your making pulls at my heart." She nodded for him to follow her to a small courtyard the house had been in her family for generations. In various pots, some ancient, some new, were all sorts of plants and herbs. An altar stood in one corner offerings to her ancestors. Another was a small area that was, what he supposed, her sanctuary away from the house of loud boys that she loved dearly. Then there was a potting table filled with not just gardening tools.

She motioned for him to sit next to a low table worn with use and age, and he wondered how many times he had sat there looking for answers from so many questions over the years. Remy let a slow, boyish smile cross his face, letting his Cajun accent thicken "You love me."

She let her eyes rake over his body. "I love my husband, my son, and rainy Sundays. You, I tolerate."

He pushed her into the private courtyard and shook his head. "Well, Cheré, don't keep the bones waiting."

She sat down across from him, pulling a piece of white chalk out of the tin, a tattered Crown Royal bag, and a small tin of tobacco. Maria emptied the contents of the purple bag into the bowl then she sprinkled a pinch of tobacco over the bones. Speaking over them in Creole she asked for guidance to help this poor lost soul in front of her, because god knows, he needed it more then most.

Remy scowled at her, Maria returned the look, with a slow smile. She then took the bowl and dumped the bones on the table. Her warm brown eyes examined the items that had fallen in the circle. Picking up what looked like a wing bone, she spoke. "You are going on a trip, soon."

Remy watched as Maria listen to the voices of the items. Their stories, some were louder than others. Those objects she ran her fingers over, hearing what they had to say on the matter. A lapel button that read Hendrix, "Love is in the air for you." She moved close to the edge of the circle to a leg bone of a squirrel, "Oh but you will have competition for her heart." Then to an acorn in the middle of the field. "It's unclear still who will be the victor, but the experience, no matter the outcome, will open new paths for you."

Softly she touched a small stone, "A quiet man comes as well, soon. Help him otherwise you both will…" then her hand, almost as if one bone started screaming, she went to it and did something she rarely did: she picked the bone off the playing field.

He watched as she examined the vertebra. The longer she listened to the bone's tale, her dark complexion turned gray, and as she stilled finally, he watched her throw the bone, not back on top of the table, but across the courtyard. The offensive object skated across the paver stones to come to a stop with a 'tink' next to the pot containing belladonna.

Crossing herself, she looked up at Remy, "Marie?" the Thief asked, concerned. Rick, he noticed, had left the game, to walk out in the courtyard; looking down at the bone, the detective crossed himself.

The word that terrified him and the rest of the world whispered and swirled in his head, "Mon Dieu," he swore watching very few things strike fear to your core. For Remy it was clowns, they were creepy little suckers. The sixties had the threat of nuclear war. The 90's it was global warming; now it was the fear of a man in a faceless mask take over the airwaves again and threaten you that your city or the World was going to come under attack. COBRA.

"Well, that cinches it," Rick said looking at the bone still in Maria's hand. "I'm sorry baby, I just got a call. There was a mix up at the morgue, Richard's body was cremated before an autopsy could be performed. Those questionable contracts wouldn't have anything to do with.."

"Cobra," Remy finished for him.

Remy gave the Detective a pointed look. They might not have proof of Cobra's involvement, but they had the answer. Remy pulled his phone out, pulling up a number he was loathe to use. The phone rang a few times. Then a familiar and very confused voice answered the phone, God he hated caller id. "Hello?"

"Bailey, I need a favor," Remy stated, simple to the point.

There was a long pause, he could hear her talking to someone on the other end. Finally, her voice loud in his ear. "Well, Speak of the Devil and he will call."

"Oh, yeah."

Lady Jaye couldn't help but laugh as the little boy who finished off the song with such a flourish. As a member of the Joe team, she had been shown appreciation by governments for helping them out. She had numerous medals, been a guest at feasts, and even the prime minister of Japan, having learned of her expertise on ancient weapons from Europe, had sent her a beautiful Samurai sword. The note attached to that particular gift read simply: it is time you learn about something with more grace.

That sword had been her favorite gift of appreciation, until now. This simple song, sung earnestly by these children took the place of that sword. Trying not to look like a blubbering idiot, she took a few deep breaths to calm the emotions that the song had caused.

With the song over, the chaperones released the children, with pent up energy, they went to race out of the room towards the elevators up to their hotel rooms. A few, though, stopped by to give her hugs and kisses. She couldn't help but giggle as she kneeled down giving hugs back.

She watched, as they made their way upstairs to their rooms, she couldn't help but feel a little tug at her heart. She wondered how her female teammates would feel if they found out how much she was looking forward to raising children.

"Lady Jaye, I almost didn't recognize you," she turned to see the familiar face of one Colonel James Rhodes walking up to her. She knew that Tony Stark was here at the hotel, but, seeing his DOD Liaison was a pleasant surprise.

"Colonel Rhodes," Jaye genuinely liked her fellow officer. She had met him when she was still a Sergeant, working on the Ghost project, a new manned Air force spy plane with such a low profile it was impossible to detect on enemy radar.

It had been a "back-to-basics" project for her; she had started life in small arms repair, not spy work and certainly not recruitment and retention. The MOS had called to her, there was something about working in the same specialty as her father made her feel closer to him. Plus, she saw the appeal of taking something broken, fixing it, then getting to fire it.

It was during that time that she had struck a close friendship with the Colonel. He had even been one of the officers to recommend her for OCS when her packet got mysteriously turned over to General Hawk. "It's a big surprise to see the Joe team here. I figured that the problems with tomorrow's charity event would be more under FBI jurisdiction." Rhodie said.

She wasn't an idiot; she knew part of Rhodes' job was to assess threats on Stark's person. With the billionaire's reputation, she was sure that keeping him safe was not an easy task, on a good day. To find that the original location of the charity event that he was to attend had a live bomb threat, she didn't blame the Colonel for asking.

"The Governor asked for our help," Jaye shrugged. "What are you doing here?"

"Stark Industries has just released to market a new technology in prosthetics; that young man is getting the first one." He nodded in Flint's direction. "Though I do have to say, Tony is impressed with your handiwork."

Lady Jaye nodded; she was under no illusion, what Flint's combat leg, as he called it, lacked in aesthetics more than made up in practicality. The project was a labor of love for her; honestly, the project had flexed all her abilities and then some, even having to ask other teammates for help on occasion.

The thing was tailor designed for him. After he had lost his leg he had still been allowed to stay on as the Joe team's Executive Officer; but, he wanted to come back hundred percent. Flint had wanted to be back on Quick Reaction. As he began training, her fiancée would find a problem, and with her knowledge weapon design, she built something that could handle almost anything thrown at him as a Joe.

The only drawback, she was the only person that could fix it on the fly. Her Warrant Officer didn't seem to mind that any missions that he went on, at the moment, had to include her. She didn't mind either, she enjoyed performing the Ranger side of her duties sometimes a lot more than the spy craft, besides there is something cute about checking each other for ticks after a mission in the jungle.

"You sell yourself short," Rhodie said shaking his head. "I am surprised you weren't asked to join him on this project."

"I did receive the request; but, I felt the project I was working on was more important," Lady Jaye explained to the Colonel.

"I had heard the rumors that you left the spy game, don't tell me they aren't true." Rhodie tried to give her a stern look, but his eyes sparkled. The senior officer had told her that she had more to offer than the world of cat and mouse could give her.

Lady Jaye looked at him strangely and shrugged. "I always find it hard to believe that people think I am some sort of superstar. I guess in the eyes of the CIA, I made two bad decisions. I got out of Covert Ops and got engaged." She didn't bring up the fact that the CIA had used her; when she didn't bow to their will, they sent a team of men to kill her. They had almost succeeded as well.

"When is the big day?" Rhodie asked her.

Before she could answer; a handsome man in a well-tailored suit walked up to them. "Excuse me, Rhodey."

Lady Jaye gasped; one would have to be living under a rock for the past six years to not know that the man standing in front of her was none other than Tony Stark "Lady Jaye, correct?" he smiled after looking her up and down. Then turning to the Colonel, he frowned. "Rhodey you never told me you were friends with her."

"Mr. Stark" She turned and smiled using all of her charm.

"Tony." He took her hand pulling it to his chest.

"Excuse me?" His directness caught her off guard. It had been her experience that people in his class were more interested how they came off to others. He was defiantly performing a social faux pas. But it seemed that Stark enjoyed making faux pas.

"Call me Tony." The billionaire seemed blissfully unaware of her becoming uncomfortable as he still had not released her hand. "And I can call you? I mean, I don't think that people call you Lady Jaye all the time."

Lady Jaye looked in his brown eyes the comment was a slick way to get her real name. Her knee jerk reaction was to put him in his place, give him her rank, name, and title but that would not put her in the position to find out what she needed to know. Like hell though, was she going to give him the option of being so familiar as Allie the name her family friends called her or Al the even shorter version that even more select few were allowed. She decided on a happy medium. "Alison."

At the point Allie tried to disengage her hand from Tony's grasp, but, he the billionaire held on tight.

"Alison," he tried it on his tongue like it was an exotic word, not the popular first name it was.

She looked up at him in disbelief. Was this guy flirting with her? Where was her overprotective fiancée when she actually needed him to be overprotective?

"So Alison…" Tony stopped mid-sentence looking down at her hand, holding it up he examined her custom designed halo ring with a quizzical expression. "Wow, I was not expecting that." He literally jerked her hand and body as he pulled her hand close to his face.

She watched as he examined the vintage art deco halo ring with one karat diamond surrounded by a Karat worth of sapphires and rubies. It seemed that Tony Stark thought very little of the ring. Which raised Lady Jaye's ire a little bit. Her farm boy Warrant Officer had worked hard for this and it showed her how important she was to him. And right when she thought he was going to pull out a jeweler's loop he looked up at her. "Is it serious? Tell me it's not serious. I can get you a bigger one."

"Tony, you're scaring her," A strawberry-blonde woman appeared next him giving him a warning glance. Jaye had met her a few times in Washington DC at Senate briefings. If Alison remembered correctly, her name was Pepper Potts.

"Am I?" He sent a glare in Pepper's direction. "I would think that be hard to do. Scare her, being a member of the Joe team and all."

Turning his attention back to Lady Jaye he smiled "Can I ask you," he started he began examining both her good eye and her glass eyes. "I mean it's really good work, just a slight variation in the color, a little bit of drag; but, that's to be expected." Stark tilted his head stepping back he took her all in. "Still, you are absolutely gorgeous. I saw you on the cover of Time, with the skull and cross bone insert. HOT." Finally, he took a breath. Jaye thought she was in the clear to make a quick exit; however, his mouth opened again. "It's gone?"

Working on the Joe team, with the cast of colorful characters she dealt with, Lady Jaye felt that she did a pretty good job of following the most asinine of conversations. Tony had her so confused she found her looking to Rhodey for clarification. The rat of a Colonel had already moved away, flirting with a comely front desk clerk.

"Your eye." The bluntness of the comment caused Pepper to choke on her the water she was drinking.

"I have a spacer, so, I can put inserts in," Jaye was now acutely aware now of her injuries.

"No meat," he nodded to Pepper, who at this point was bright red, and wasn't even bothering to hide her mouthing 'I am so sorry'.

Tony looked over his shoulder to shoot the CEO a look, then turned to examine her engagement ring one last time. "I can get you bigger one; you don't even have to marry me, just dump the bozo."

Thank God, Shipwreck emerged to stand at her side; she had never been happier to see the Pirate in her life. "Unless you are the bozo." Stark took in the Sailor with disdain.

"That's it, Tony." Miss. Potts looped her arm through the billionaire's and began dragging him away.

Finally, a very confused Shipwreck spoke. "Why am I a bozo?"

"I think he just called Flint a bozo." She looked up at her teammate. "Honestly, I think Tony Stark just proposed to me; or, I just bought a small farm in the Netherlands, I have no idea."


	20. Chapter 20

_Still don't own... Don't sue... Please..._

* * *

Bailey looked morosely at the Double Galley House that stood on Camp Street. It still sparkled with its white paint, black shutters and doors. The wrought iron accents were period correct, as were the flowers were chosen to bloom. In one small area near the porch swing, which had once been her favorite place, the heather brought from Scotland when her father, Kestrel, had become the United Kingdom Liaison to the Joe team, and later the team's XO, thrived.

She had found this place forsaken and alone when she had first moved to New Orleans. The last owners sold it to her for a steal, having relocated to Atlanta after Hurricane Katrina and not wanting to return. The house had needed major restoration and Bailey had thrown herself into the task. At nineteen she had found a hobby that didn't need the ocean waves.

Bailey put her blood sweat and tears into this place, though one drawer in the master bathroom stuck just a little bit, and a cabinet door under the sink was one degree was off. The honey blonde loved how her former home had come out.

Her footsteps, along with the three companions, echoed on the porch as she pulled out her keys. Past the keys of her F150, the farm house, the GI Joe Kennels, her clinic, the keys to her office, the medicine cabinet, the small Bungalow on the Georgia Coast and then New Orleans.

So as she slipped the key into the lock of the door pushing it open, she looked around the entrance and walked in toward the back of the house where a kitchen and small sitting area with her TV and breakfast nook were located.

She had no memory of the week before she was poisoned and Anna was murdered. So walking into the scene of the crime held nothing but a mild curiosity as to if the house would feel different, would there be stains of blood, broken furniture, chaos? She was surprised that there was nothing, just the cloying scent of varnish and fresh paint. The work men had done such an amazing job cleaning, she didn't even know where "it" had happened.

Placing her laptop bag and a small duffle bag with a change of clothes on the oversized couch that was in a small area off the kitchen, she used as a less formal living area, she felt Cover Girl breezed past her, "Let's get some windows open and air circulating in here," The model said, squeezing her shoulder. "See I told you, boys, we needed groceries."

Bailey nodded and watched as the other two men walked past with various cases and a bag of groceries. "Bailey, cheré, you okay?" Gung-Ho looked at her with concern, she smiled at the Marine and nodded. Squeezing his arm she couldn't help but wonder when he had gotten the grey in his goatee. She walked deeper into her siting area and knew his eyes followed hers along with Snake Eyes' gray ones.

Bailey had to admit that the workers that were hired to fix her floors and wall must have done a good job because looking at the room she would have no clue that something terrible happened here. The floors matched seamlessly and the walls, she took a shaky breath. Nobody would have a clue that a woman had died here, while Bailey had fought for her life.

Bailey walked over to the TV stand and picked up a crystal sea horse, smiling slightly, then walking over to a book shelf worth her numerous surfing trophies. She looked quizzically at the small contraption sitting at eye level, picking it up she smiled. There was her cell phone, behind a picture frame of many of her friends in Atlanta sitting at Izzy's bar. Why it was there she had no clue; picking it up she examined it and realized that it was dead as a door nail. She slid it into the back pocket of her Jeans.

Looking around the room, she wondered slightly, _How the hell did she end up back here?_ Then she remembered that damn phone call. She really had to talk to that First Sergeant, it was not a good idea to stroke the Prince of Thieves' ego. If Remy thought that he had the Joe team on Speed dial he might become more of a pain in the ass than what he really was.

Honestly, when she saw his number on the caller ID she thought that she was going to find herself in a conversation about his run-in with the former Victoria Secret Angel turned Tank Jockey. Not him saying that he had to talk to her face-to-face.

When she explained that the Cajun wanted a sit-down, she had not expected Duke reaction. "No, you need to have a face to face with Gambit, ASAP."

Bailey laughed. "Gambit, come to Atlanta? His control of the Third and Fourth Ward is tenuous, and it's no secret that the Dreadnocks have Cobra backing. For him to leave now, Zartan could slip in and take over too easily."

"Would he not share information?" Duke looked at her with that expression Uncle Simon used with he wanted them to have some huge epiphany, but, didn't want to spell it out for them.

"Yes, he would. But why me? Why not send Gung-Ho? He's the Cajun's cousin." Bailey pointed out to the First Sergeant.

"He called you, why?" Duke asked. He wasn't accusatory, more wondering. Why would Gambit call Bailey over his cousin? The Gunny Sergeant who had a lot more pull in the Joe team as a Platoon Sergeant and a member who had been on the team longer than Duke.

"I was there when his wife died, even though I didn't remember it," Bailey admitted. She hated the fact that being poisoned and dying had wiped her memory of the week leading up to what happened in her small home in New Orleans that killed Anna Raven and had her waking up three weeks later in the hospital. She continued to what, in her mind, was the only logical explanation as to why Gambit had called on her. "Gambit has always thought that the Spy Guild had something to do with her death and me becoming infected."

Duke nodded and looked at her blinking; he then cast a glance over to Scarlett who seemed irritated that her husband was even contemplating sending her best friend's, little sister into, at best, a situation that could put her status with the Joe team in jeopardy.

"She's not going to go alone." Duke pointed out to his wife, "Gung-Ho and Cover Girl can go with, maybe even start showing her the Joe way with their own unique insights. I'm sure I can find a fourth who would love to play body guard, the last thing I need is Lieutenant 'Brat' giving me hell because the 'sane' member of Hart-Burnett got herself killed."

Snake Eyes' hands had moved quickly. Duke said nothing but pretended to examine a clipboard that listed all the Joes that were up for missions for the day. Bailey accurately figured that was his way of ignoring the ninja. "Leatherneck is up."

Scarlett had let a smile cross her face. It seemed that the redhead had decided to torture the Ninja. "I think anyone with Hart-Burnett name scares the crap out of Leatherneck."

"Wet Suit? No, he's on the Forward team in Paris with Slaughter and Shockwave," Scarlett said shrugging. "Oh, Budo! He likes Bailey and he's not that scared of Flint or Lady Jaye."

The man in all black had enough; Snake Eyes was grabbing at Bailey's wrist, pulling her out of the Top's office. As they made their way to get his go bag, she heard Duke yell, through a fit of laughter, "Flight line in twenty."

"YOU NEED A SNACK!" Cover Girls yell ripped her thoughts. Bailey turned and looked at Cover Girl quizzically along with Snake Eyes and Gung-Ho. The pretty blonde stopped blinked, opened her mouth, glared and then pointed at all of them. "Not a word from any of you."

Bailey laughed as she walked over to the counter smiling at Cover Girl. "Hey, I think it's sweet when you get all momma bear on us hoydens."

Cover Girl shook her head. "At least you don't mind me getting mama bear, all I hear from Colt is MOM." The single-mother imitated her seven-year-old's voice.

"Trust me, seven is still a great age." Gung-Ho chuckled, "Wait till they turn sixteen, and you are the biggest embarrassment in the world. Delilah asked me yesterday if I could wear a sweater in front of her friends because my tattoos embarrassed her."

"Some of them are a little…" Snake Eyes then motioned toward the Marine's arms. "They need A LOT of love."

Bailey was surprised how quickly she was picking up sign language. Almost as if somewhere she had learned it and just hadn't used in in awhile; the more she communicated with Snake Eyes the more she remembered.

Gung-Ho blinked "You thinking about getting back in the game?"

Snake Eyes looked at the faded ink on Gung-Ho's arms; while spending time in Japan, the Ninja had become enamored by tattooing. When the opportunity to learn the art showed itself, he had jumped at the chance.

As his fingers ran across the outline and the beginning parts of the shading, Bailey could tell that he was surprised, that after all the years, the Gunny Sergeant had left it alone, having no other artist finish it.

"Figured you would get back to it," Gung Ho looked at his friend, even with the mask she could tell that Snake eyes looked sheepish. "It didn't seem right anyone else messing with it."

Snake Eyes was already making a mental note of the things he needed to get, "Let me get some practice in; but, I'll see what I can do at the end of the month."

The Cajun nodded, then looked up at Cover Girl; the duo shared a look which Bailey understood. She saw that look when she worked behind the bar at Izzy's. That was the look given when two people were up to something and had succeeded. A red head had worn the same look, earlier, but Bailey had thought nothing about it.

Bailey blinked staring into Cover Girls honey brown eyes, that held a very guilty expression. All the joking and teasing about Snake Eyes killing her had been a smoke screen. Cover Girl and Jinx had raced to Scarlett, and told the redhead everything.

"Go use the Practice room without me." Scarlett had said. "You're a part-time member of the Joe team, nobody is going to say anything. Anyway, the gym and practice areas are open to dependents, besides, everyone is terrified of L.J. Room 1P has the thicker mats and Rock and Roll and Snake Eyes keep it clean. Trust me, I'll try and meet you later."

One big run on monologue should have clued her in; Scarlett's poker face was up there with her future brother-in-law's: terrible. Bailey turned, staring at the former model. Snake Eyes and her had been put in a good old fashioned fix-up. She opened her mouth to tell her ninja just that.

Cover Girl eyes got wide, the model quickly sprung into action and shoved a piece of chocolate in Bailey's mouth. It took a minute for the former thief the chew the candy. She smiled and the taste "Oh, Chocolate, it has been to long."

"Hussy." Cover Girl looked stricken at shoving chocolate in a diabetic's mouth. "Look, I remembered the crush you had on him before... Paris. I have seen him checking you out, we all have. So, we pushed you two, a little, we weren't expecting you two to get to second base with each other, right of the bat."

Bailey looked at Snake Eyes and sighed, what had happened in the practice room was out of character. Not the sparring, but the showing off and the kissing. The full tilt to being naked and having sex on the floor of the practice mats that was Mackenzie's MO, not hers or Allie's. Strangely, she had no shame in what she had done; with anyone else she would have been mortified. But the minute he returned her kiss it just felt right. "Do you want me to apologize for making out with Snakes? I won't. In fact, I'm looking forward to do it again many times."

"Eww." Cover Girl shuddered. "No more!" she handed Baily a couple of Kiwi to cut up.

Bailey giggled, "You know, you will be asking details about my love life in the weeks to come." She turned to grab a knife. Snake Eyes came in with an armful of MRE's and looked at the more appetizing spread of goodies that Cover Girl had gotten.

He moved to grab a knife and stilled as they both stood in the middle of her kitchen, examining her knife block. There were no knives, only a big fork and her sharpener. Bailey opened the drawer that held her flatware she peered in. Spoons, Forks, and skewers and her pretty chop sticks, but no knives.

Snake Eyes began rummaging through other kitchen drawers she couldn't help but be slightly confused as she touched a tea spoon with the pretty flower designed on them.

"I was going to ask where your knives where when I started this." Cover Girl waved her camp knife.

"Mac?" She looked at them shrugging. Walking over to her dishwasher it was empty. "he uses this place as a safe house maybe he decided to worship knives, I wouldn't put it past him."

"Well there is not hope for it." Cover Girl handed her another camp knife, one she kept in her boot. "I am sure that we will figure it out, but you really do need something to eat. One protein bar does not make dinner."

"Yes, MOM." Bailey chuckled but the tank jockey was right. Looking at her watch she sighed, she should have eaten an hour ago.

Cover Girl glared walking over to the stove. The model pulled out a cast iron skillet; there she placed the sausage in the pan to heat it up.

Gung-Ho looked at the fixings simple meal. "Not that I'm complaining, but we have MRE's."

"We have a diabetic with us, MRE's could have a detrimental effect on her blood sugar." Cover Girl explained.

As Cover Girl moved around Bailey's kitchen they all fell into a conversation, that soon turned into a gossip. The topic of conversation: The new 'Doc', a Major that he turned a certain Southern Tank Drivers head.

Cover Girl retold how, three days ago, Cross Country shyly came up and introduced himself to the new Joe. He had been so nervous he gave the ebony skinned beauty his name as Country Cross. The poor guy wasn't even paying attention that he ran square into Sgt. Slaughter. Causing Sgt. Slaughter to spill the extra-large glass of sweet tea all down Cross Country's back.

"So poor Cross-Country refuses to leave the Motor Pool which had Flint, Rock and Roll and Duke irritated because Raven asked the Average Joe Band to play at Izzy's and they will be down a banjo player." Cover Girl said spooning in the sausage and rice dish onto plates.

Cross Country was a sweetie but she couldn't help but laugh at the image of him hiding. She offered Snake Eye his he shook his head placing a hand on his chest palm down then another on top and moving that top hand away Bailey knew from her lessons on the fly that meant: "After" After then using his fingers he spelled out G-A-M-B-I-T.

Cover Girl sighed and looked down at her watch. "What time is Gambit going to show?"

"Who knows, New Orleans, runs on its own time," Bailey admitted. "I can guarantee that he knows that we are here, as do half the people in town. Him racing over here right away could arouse suspicion."

"What do you think Gambit wants?" Snake Eyes asked.

"I think it's a safe assumption that he doesn't want tickets to the Army-Navy game." She looked at the tattoo on her wrist, running her fingers over the slight rise in the heavy outline. "The most secure communication is a face to face conversation. Though the Guilds have no budget restraints we still have been compromised on occasion. You have a Crew that is not a member of the guilds, if they want to steal something before us, breaking our communications is usually their first move. Not to mention people who have no compunction about selling that information on the Dark Web, or worse to give it to Cobra for a favor of the Commander."

"My cousin might be reckless, he's not stupid," Gung-Ho explained. Bailey got the feeling that he was speaking more to Snake-Eyes than anyone else. "Nor is he heartless, just like Hawk wouldn't send Lady Jaye to a dinner party where the guest of honor is Tomax and Xamot. Gambit wouldn't ask Bailey to come back here, without a damn good reason."

"Which I promise you I have." A smooth southern voice interrupted their conversation as he walked in from the front door. "Bailey, you left the door unlocked."

The room jumped into action; Bailey watched the three Joes drew their weapons. Snake Eyes moved in a flash placing himself between her and Gambit.

Bailey swore Snake Eyes had just given away way too much to the head of the Thieves Guild. Not only that she was a valued asset to the Joe team, but that technically, she was not a hundred percent, physically.

"Knock." Gung Ho swore. "Cousin, Knock."

"I don't know; this is a lot better than walking in on you with Gigi St. Croix." He smiled, giving Cover Girl a slow appraising look. "That ass of yours, E.T., blinded me, it was so white." The two men just stared at each other the Marine then let his face draw into a slow smile then pulled the taller man into a bone crushing hug.

Gambit struggled out of the Marines bear hug, Gung Ho chuckled tightening his hold. Remy might be taller than the Marine, but Gung Ho was bigger. Finally, the Devil Dog let go when Remy moaned that he couldn't breathe.

The thief then turned and smiled at Cover Girl. Bailey was amazed when he said almost shyly. "I hope you liked the flowers."

"They were beautiful." Cover Girl smiled at him. She looked at her friend wondering if they had seen the same flowers the Rose and lily combination was heavy and overwhelming maybe she was just a simple girl that wild flowers off the side of the road suited her just fine.

"I'm glad you liked them." He smiled sincerely.

Bailey couldn't believe what she was watching; opening her mouth to comment, that Gambit really needs to rethink his choices in flowers, she was cut off by the Head of the Guild. "Do you want to make fun of my choices in flowers, or talk about the elephant in the room?"

"What elephant?" She asked innocently, pretending to look for an elephant. Oh, she knew exactly what he was talking about, she just didn't want to acknowledge, because, she wasn't even sure what color the elephant was, what size the elephant was and more importantly, did the elephant like her back?

"A ninja jumping between you and me," Gambit glared at her through narrowed eyes.

"I don't see a ninja. I see a Marine, a Tank Jockey and…" She held up her sausage and rice. "Some really good dinner. Want some?"

Gambit looked down at her with an expression of disbelief. "Who's your friend all in black?"

She looked at Snake Eyes, leaning in close, Bailey could see through his visor and his eyes she swore was sparkling with amusement. "A Johnny Cash fan?"

"Right," Gambit's eyes narrowed. "Don't let the accent fool you BB; I am not an idiot."

"He really likes Johnny Cash?" She shrugged.

"How much would you want to bet, that under that uniform is a Ninja by the name of Snake Eyes?"

"How do you know about Snake Eyes?" Cover Girl looked at him with an air of suspicion.

"We've met." Snake Eyes signed.

"We have a schizophrenic in common," Gambit added.

When all eyes looked at the two men, the Ninja waved them off. "Trust me," Snake Eyes explained. "That is one trip down the Rabbit hole I would wish on no one."

Gambits mismatched eyes examined her and Snake Eyes. "Don't worry you two, I won't call a conclave. I have done far worse than fall in with a rival guild member. But, I can't say the same for Grayson."

"Grayson? Grayson Richards? Why would he have any say?" Bailey remembered the oldest son of Beau Richards. She shivered slightly; the handsome southerner gave her the creeps. The few occasions she had to meet him, she got the heebie-jeebies just being around him.

"Beau Richards was found dead." Gambit sighed, "After our little party last night."

"I didn't know the Spy Guild was there." Cover Girl looked confused.

"They weren't, or shouldn't have been." Remy shrugged. "Something tells me Zarana showing up at that party had more to do with creating a diversion for the guild than busting your op. I think that you and your grouchy ranger friend walked in the right place at the wrong time. Which begs too many questions."

"The first being, why is the Spy Guild working with Zartan?" Gung Ho asked. "The Guilds, for better or worse, are neutral, weighing only individual hearts and intentions. They don't take sides in wars, countries or politics."

"Not to mention, even when the Guild War was at its worst, there has always been a 'no Cobra' policy in place by the conclave," Gambit said shaking his head.

"Then Storm Shadow killed almost everyone in the conclave." Cover Girl Sighed. Everyone looked at her, "Your ex-boyfriend gets mentioned blowing up a bunch of people, you sort of pay attention. It's not something a girl forgets, even if they don't have an eidetic memory."

"The Spy guild working with Zartan not good." Gung-Ho shook his head.

Gambit sighed. "I think Grayson is Zartan."

Bailey looked at the head of Thieves guild; living in the Historic New Orleans she didn't need her connection to the Joe team to know about Dreadnocks. The biker gang stayed away from the Guild controlled French Quarter, but, the idea that Grayson really was Zartan sent chills up her spine. "That is a scary accusation."

"There have been rumors about Grayson for a while." Gambit shrugged looking pointedly at Bailey.

"Okay," Bailey sighed looking at him. They were here for information, but this revelation was stunning. "How do you draw a line from Grayson to Zartan, with rumors of Grayson being a vampire?"

"Maria threw the bones and it came to both of us. After her husband told us of Beau being found killed with a mysterious bullet wound to the back of his head, Maria will meet us for Beignets in the morning."

 _All this was from a reading?_ She looked at him opening her mouth he cut her off. "You saw it."

"I should have kept my mouth shut." Bailey moaned.

"What did you see?" Snake Eyes asked; to Bailey's surprise, he was genuinely interested in Gambit's theory.

"The rotary club and my Sorority was having a fund raiser, Grayson was there, and the day started off over cast, but, the sun broke through." Bailey sighed, "I had a mimosa, with no food and you know me and Champagne."

"BB Gun," Gambit said looking at her. "We aren't judging, just tell us what you saw."

"Oh, I'm judging." Cover Girl joked.

"Grayson, I thought, turned Smurf blue." She said "He disappeared so quickly, I thought maybe I had drunk a little too much. The thing was, when I admitted it to my college friends, everyone thought he was a little creepy so they ran with the rumor."

She could hear a pin drop; Bailey realized that all eyes were on her. "Go ahead, make jokes."

"Blue? Are you sure?" The three Joe's looked at her slacked jaw.

"Zartan has first generation nanites in this skin, the more he uses them, the more they break down." Snake Eyes explained using Cover Girl to translate his hand signals for Bailey and Gambit. "That break down causes a reaction to sunlight. Even when his face is in its natural position the sun's rays affects him."

"Due to the rumors of his involvement with Cobra the conclave would not give him nor his sibling's control," Gambit informed them.

"But if the conclave doesn't know about his death," Bailey swore. "Zartan can look and sound like anyone he wants with those nanites."

"He stole the body, so the conclave would never know." Gung-Ho. "D.A. Peña can't prosecute without a body."

"If Grayson is Zartan he could pretend to be Beau," Bailey said. "And thanks to me, New Orleans already thinks that the family is made up of Vampires."

"Bailey I'm sure that Grayson didn't use that rumor to kill his father." Gung-Ho comforted her. "Maybe, Tallulah, she's an evil bitch."

Gung-Ho stopped thinking about Zandar Zartan's younger brother, who is an expert with the compound bow. "Then there is Sterling that is Grayson's lapdog and can take down a 14-point buck with a bow and arrow. Damn Cuz' I think you might be right."

"So how do we prove it?" Gambit asked.

"It's not something we can do over night." Cover Girl swore. "We could go up to him and ask, odds are, he would laugh and walk away if we are lucky. We might be able to lay the ground work for General Mac and Mischief for the fun stuff like warrants and Subpoenas." She asked looking at Snake Eyes.

"The Richards' are Catholic," Bailey supplied. "If Beau Richards is dead the family would be in mourning; appearance is everything to old money like theirs and the Guild.

"Kings," Gambit said smiling. "It's neutral ground during the Guild War. Plus, Kermit is playing tonight. There is a certain anonymity with the leaders there. King don't say nothing."

"Let's Go!" Bailey grinned Kermit playing at King's with a plate of fried alligator and a bottle of Ghost in the Machine.

"No, you defiantly are not." Gung-Ho stopped her sharing a look with Snake Eyes.

"Why?" Bailey looked at him like he was crazy. Grayson wouldn't try anything at King's, not with her in the presence of the Head of the Thieves Guild.

"Bailey someone tried to poison you;" Cover Girl pointed out. "someone who, might I remind you, has not been caught."

"Also your boyfriend," Gambit waved a hand at the ninja. "Well anyone in the business sees a badly burned, six-one, tattooed man, well… Snake Eyes comes to mind. Especially after what he pulled on Bourbon street."

"Bourbon Street?" Snake eyes looked quizzically. "I haven't been on Bourbon street since I have been burned. Before that, if I was with Romeo and Tommy, I am not to blame it's all Chief's fault."

"What do you three do on Bourbon street?" Bailey asked intrigued

"It was before I was a Joe and Flint was a Warrant Officer." Was all he said.

"No man, you were there, and It was epic." Gambit smiled.


	21. Chapter 21

Special Agent Meghan Kelly sighed as she finally settled behind her desk. She had to admit that babysitting the two Joes had her feeling unsettled, to say the least. She still was at a loss as to why Supervisory Special Agent Anderson had emphatically not wanted any of the Joes walking around unchaperoned.

What was going on? First, they shut out Homeland, now the Joe team. Rumors were also circulating that the FBI's relationship with NCIS was becoming strained. During her time at Quantico, it was not uncommon to see the various agencies working together on cases. To have the Joe team out of the loop was not only hurting the anti-Terrorist unit, but, the FBI as well.

Her current case was an example of the need to keep each other 'in the know'. Pulling the file on her desk closer to her, she slowly flipped through the pages, skimming through her notes, the inventory of evidence and the crime scene pictures. The case, she realized, was going to become one that would never be solved. The official story, as well as news headlines, would probably read, "Biker Gang member in rival territory gets a crowbar to the head."

The autopsy report had come in and stated the obvious: cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head. Considering that his brain matter was sprayed out around his brown locks and his head had a look of a deflated volleyball, she was inclined to agree. Then there was a memo confirming that the victim's identity was Bill Winkie, a known member of the Swamp Riders Motorcycle Club.

What had her stumped was Winkie's drastic change in behavior. His life seemed to be that of an upstanding British Citizen. An ex-Royal Marine who, upon returning from Basra, Iraq, had started working as a Science teacher. He was engaged to his childhood sweetheart, and they were expecting their first child. Then one day he changed to a man that rode out of his hometown in England on a motorcycle with a rap sheet a mile long, not bothering to look back.

There were still too many questions as to why Monkeywrench threw his life away for Kelly to close the case. She knew there was an answer out there, the Joe team had the best knowledge of the Dreadnocks, but to reach out to them after being expressly told not to was a career killer.

Making a few notes that the family might be able to answer. SA Kelly then turned her attention to the claims he worked for Cobra, a terrorist organization. She figured it might be best to reach out to a friend that worked in the Counter Terrorism Unit with the FBI.

She picked up the phone, punching his number in by heart, and wrinkled her nose at the sound of her friend's voice in the recorded message. She glanced down at the time on her phone she realized it was ten till seven, no wonder her stomach was rumbling.

A sharp rap on the door to her office stopped her. Without waiting for her to grant permission to enter, she watched the door swing opened. To her surprise, Deputy Director Ivers strode in. In his early fifties and slightly balding, he was a big guy who would look more at home on a construction site then the halls of the FBI offices, especially a man who worked his way up the top through White Collar crimes.

What had her intrigued is him slumming, in the lower agent's offices and not have her summoned up to his.

"So, where are we on the investigation?" He took a seat across from her desk, reaching out, taking a picture of her and her parents when she graduated from UCLA.

"It's unclear, either the Breakers or Cobra did the deed." She closed the file; SSA Kelly let her fingers glide of the relief of the FBI seal on the cover. "His family is on their way from England; I have some follow-up questions for them. Other than that, I think it's a classic case of a Vet returning home with PTSD. Winkie goes off the rails and ends up either in the wrong place or pisses off the wrong guy. There is no hiding the fact that the Swamp Riders are Dreadnocks and we all know the Dreadnocks are guns-for-hire for Cobra."

Ivers placed the picture back on her desk, crossing his arms he studied her "He was one of the Dreadnock's that captured those two Joes not too long ago, wasn't he?"

That question caught her off guard. "I am familiar with the brief. The Joe Team never released the names of the members involved. Since I have no access to the Joe team or their records..." she shrugged. She hoped the comment might give her some insight on why they didn't want the Joe Team to find out about them having Monkeywrench's case. All she wanted to do was bring closure to a single mother of an eight-year-old daughter.

Ivers looked at her, "You're a smart agent you'll figure out a way." She was disappointed that he didn't explain. "Just like you'll figure how to make a connection between the biker and General Clayton Abernathy."

"But sir?" Ivers' request shocked her. Even if Monkeywrench was a Dreadnock, there was a big leap from the mercenary to the leader of the GI Joe team.

"Figure it out." He's lips widened into a chilling smile. "Supervisory Special Agent Kelly."

He reached out his hand for her to take, then with a nod, he smiled, pleased. "I'm glad you see things my way." A chill ran up her spine she had never paid much attention before but there on his lapel was the Don't Tread on Me Flag.

"There he was, screaming like a little girl." To prove his point, Sam let out a scream.

"What Sam is not telling you all, is the needle he was using was not a sewing needle; the nice gentleman that had allowed us to find cover in his shop was a cobbler." Flint stopped for dramatic effect and watched as Quick Kick across from him hand went up to his neck, stomping his foot. "It was a leather needle; Sam was so drunk he didn't know the difference."

"Stop being a wussy," Sam said looking at him, "that's the problem with you soldiers, a bunch of bitchy little complainers. The scar adds character."

"Wow and with that chin, you should know all about character." Jaye quipped.

Sam looked at her wide-eyed his mouth aghast. Then he smiled. "I like her."

"I would hope so; how long did we work on her to keep her alive?" Michael asked.

"That had to be the scariest flight I have ever made," Flint admitted memories of her life blood spilling out on his Black Hawk made him cringe. Wanting to not think about how he almost lost her, before he even had a chance to know her, he turned and smiled at her tugging at a chocolate curl. "Lady Jaye, you are up."

"You know all about my embarrassing stories. I don't have that many." She said trying to get the attention off her.

"Accidentally locking yourself in a bathroom and missing a whole firefight." Quick Kick pointed out first.

"Losing your pants on a mission," Beachhead added.

Flint leaned in; he was about to tell the story of how he got his codename. Instead, she put her finger to his lips silencing him. "Two words, Chief."

He looked at her there was nothing she had on him that could top Sam's story of screaming like a little girl. "Bring it," he dared her.

"Cream Soda." He cringed instantly. He had forgotten about that part of his least favorite mission. The joint mission had the Joe team and Interpol working together to secure a toxic nerve agent for destruction still caused him to cringe.

All Dial-Tone, Cross Country, Lady Jaye and he had to do was take a classified package from a black ops site just a few miles outside of Las Vegas, to the Rocky Mountain Chemical Reservatory. From the beginning, he had his apprehensions, his last 'UPS' mission had him picking up a very short, sometimes hostile, and always sexy, Lady Jaye.

That being said, he felt relief when Dial-Tone brought the container, the size of a book, and secured it to the Armadillo. The next two hours they rode on the Nuclear Route, a carefully planned causeway for those carrying 'dirty' material, on high alert. All of them, at one time or another, looked back at the box the uneasiness apparent on their face.

Then it happened: they were attacked. The mission went then sideways, upside down and backwards, culminating in having to work with a British Spy that, in Flint's opinion, was way too interested in Lady Jaye. Though the mission became one of the ones that got told and retold, there was one particular point that the three Joes left out.

It seemed that they were the decoys to flush out Cobra. When the terrorist organization took the bait, the Joe team seemed to have the upper hand. Mindbender, in an attempt to change the tide of battle, had thrown one of the vials. Flint in a decision to save his team jumped on the 'grenade' sacrificing himself.

Matthew "Mr. Super Spy" Burke had started laughing causing them all to look at him explaining in a that the whole situation was 'Quite droll, that all the vials contained was cream soda'. The real vials had already securely made it from RMR to Ft. Colton.

The brass had wanted to see where an Interpol leak was coming from and they had found it; seems that the new secretary they had hired recently was none other than Zarana. Burke had explained then he had smiled, leaning in to Lady Jaye, wondering if she would like to go out on the town that night, check out some gambling and show. He was sure that his people could get a dress for her.

Flint had watched with humor as Jaye's eyes narrowed and that left hook of hers laid the spy low. Unbelievably, the British man had gotten up, dusted off, and left them with a 'if you change your mind'.

That adorable growl of her emitting from her throat; she turned, climbed into the armadillo and scowled _at_ them. The whole trip back, she kept glancing at him with a strange expression. As he released them once they got back to the Joe training grounds, the look intensified.

She then leaned over and her lips brushed his, it happened so quickly and had surprised him that it took Cover Girl and Clutches catcalls for him to realize it actually happened. Because by the time he got his wits together, she was gone and Cover Girl was slapping his ass saying "Good game, Chief."

The mention of the words, Cream Soda, now turned his stomach. His expression might have given away his discomfort at the situation because the table erupted in laughter. Thankfully they moved on to Quick Kick; Jessie, it seemed had a few stories of his former battle buddy.

As the night wore on, even Michael got picked on; Flint couldn't resist telling a story of the somber spy getting trapped under a bed while a corrupt Russian official his lover and mistress had quite the romp. The matter worsened when Sam had started giving Michael the blow by blow of the events above him in the voice of the Swedish Chief.

As he finished his story, he noticed that Jaye had begun leaning on him slightly and fighting off yawns. Fi was no better, her sleepy looks had Flint wondering if she would fall asleep at the table. For both women had been in not one, but three firefights. He smiled at the rest of the group and pulled her out of her seat, in the hopes of tucking her into bed.

He was almost out the door when Sam and Jessie motioned for him to stay; Flint knew what they wanted: information on Michael and his burn notice. Promising to be up to bed soon, he kissed her on the forehead, ignoring the sarcastic 'awes' that filled the room. She nodded and yawned and left; he motioned the barkeep for a beer, knowing he was going to need it.

 _Later…_

"Damn it! Hardison!"

Flint stopped in front of the TV shaking his head. There on the screen was a man with shoulder length hair, screaming in irritation at an African American man. He turned the volume down realizing that the reruns of Lady Jaye's favorite show were playing to a sleeping audience.

He looked over on the bed, chuckling at Jaye who had, somehow, wrapped her body around her laptop in a pretzel like a shape. Pulling at the laptop he shook his head. The the girl couldn't figure out how to post to Facebook, but she knew how to use Pinterest. Currently, her screen held pictures of wedding dresses, honeymoon destinations, and Christian Kane. He examined the picture of the TV actor-slash-country-singer, wondering how she thought that he looked like him.

He placed her laptop on the side table. Flint realized he wasn't going to find a place to stretch out with her taking up the middle of the bed. At home, he would scoop her up, and unceremoniously throw her on her side of the bed. Any ruffled feathers were smoothed over with strategically placed kisses. Tonight, who knew when either of them would get a chance to relax again. Pulling at the blankets she had kicked off he tucked her back in.

He settled back into the couch, looking back over at Jaye as she mumbled something in her sleep. He sighed watching her brow begin to furrow. He pulled out his iPhone and scrolled through the numerous playlists, smiling when he found the one he was looking for called Peaceful. It contained an eclectic mix from Johnny Cash, Aerosmith, Tim McGraw and Bon Jovi that, when played, the music seemed to keep her nightmares at bay. The chords of Rose of My Heart started playing, instantly, she began to relax.

Settling down again on the couch, he pulled off his boot. He then turned to his prosthetic; rolling up his pants leg, he released the suction and the contraption fell away. With a sigh, he was happy to be free of it. The best way to describe the presence was a pair of socks worn too long on a hot summer day, under a pair of jeans, encased in a pair of work boots. It's not annoying, it just feels good to get it off.

He settled on the couch. For a second he thought about reading the book he had brought with him but gave up on the idea, afraid the light would wake up Allie. So he figured he would finish his beer and relax. Pulling out a small, flat container, he started wrapping it in sharp motions. It was a point of contention between him and his fiancée; he was trying to quit, again. Making a promise to only use snuff out in the field. But at the moment his swirling thoughts of the conversation downstairs had him worried and irritated.

Opening the container, he took a pinch of tobacco, and a slight rustling caused him to still. Looking up there stood Lady Jaye arms akimbo, one hip out, irritation on her face. He should feel guilty, but all he could think was how adorable she was when she was angry at him.

"Hi, Lil' Bit." Her look was caused him to put the pinch back in the tin, dusting his fingers off he gave her a sheepish look. "Technically, I am in the field."

He was sure that he heard a slight growl imitating from her throat. God, how sexy she looked, barefoot in a pair of boy shorts, a worn Army PT shirt that had the sleeves cut out. Her chocolate curls wild, haloing around her head.

He mimicked her expression glaring up at her, instead of yelling she walked closer looking at him with narrowed eyes. She then bent down and uncrossed his arms and crawled up on his lap. Even exhausted as he was, his body had reacted to the sight of her she arched her eyebrow but didn't comment. He bit back the comment that it was her fault that she was so damn sexy. Instead, he chuckled pulling her closer to him. "Here, I was afraid I was going to sleep on the couch."

Instead of moving them both to the bed he took a minute to enjoy having her in his arms. He knew how lucky he was to have stolen moments like these, and was going to take full advantage of it.

Jaye put her head on Dash's shoulder; with a smile, he leaned down and kissed her temple.

It was then he noticed the haunted look in her eye. A sadness that occasionally would mar her pretty features. It happens to the best of them, your thoughts take you to a dark place when you least expected it; a smell, a noise, can easily bring you back to the battlefield, a jail cell or some other horrific moment.

He hated her being in that place, he felt the need to get her to giggle. With his stoic frown in place, he took her face in his calloused hands. He crossed his eyes, stuck his tongue out, earning a half-hearted smile from her. There was no stopping him; he was on a mission, she had to laugh. So, he did the only thing he could think of: he licked the side of her face, "Flint! Eww."

"What? You know where my mouth had been." A blush covered her cheeks at the obvious commentary of what had transpired between them this afternoon. The expression on her face caused him to laugh, which had her hiding her face in his chest.

He rearranged himself, so she sat between his legs, her back leaning on his chest. Then, just to be annoying, he wrapped his legs around her torso. She gave him a look of irritation, which turned into a grin as he produced a bag of gummy bears from his pocket. With a flourish, he handed them to her. He chuckled watching as she rooted for a gummy bear that was not orange.

He put his chin on her shoulder; opening his mouth. She obliged him by putting an orange bear on his tongue. He couldn't help but pull her into a bone crushing hug.

"I can't breathe, Dash!" She giggled.

"You want to breathe? That will cost you a kiss." He used what she called his 'deranged Muppet voice'; then with a growl, he started raining kisses on her neck. She began to giggle, which just egged him on even more. He loved that sound, her laughter. It chased away his demons as he kissed her temple. He then still looking at her with an exaggerated serious look.

She returned the look. "What?"

"How am I so lucky?" He softened his look, rubbing his thumb on her scar on her temple.

"You getting mushy on me, Chief?" she looked at him in disbelief.

"Yep," He grinned. Then with audacity, he stole a green gummy bear out of the bag.

"DASHIELL RIVER FAIREBORN." She swore.

"ALLISON REBEUL HART-BURNETT SOON-TO-BE FAIREBORN."

Lady Jaye's green eye sparkled, as her face took a goofy look. He chuckled, pulling her into him tighter. She snuggled into his chest; it wasn't long before he was watching her good eye flutter fighting sleep.

He felt her sigh with content as their heart beats synched; reaching under her shirt, he let his fingers rub up and down her spine. When he heard her soft snoring, he knew that she had fallen asleep.

Allie was right, partly, early in their relationship she didn't snore. A broken nose caused the adorable noise she made when she slept. Leaning down, he kissed the bridge of her nose. Settling in he became absorbed in the show. It wasn't until the credits rolled that her brogue broke the silence. "What is our next move?"

"Lil Bit, I don't know." Here was the only person in the world he was willing to admit that he didn't know something. That was how much he trusted her. How much he knew that she wouldn't ridicule, and more importantly, her own thinking so different from his often inspired some of his tactical decisions.

Flint's mind was still working the puzzle pieces; he couldn't help but be slightly irritated that they weren't in place. The modified reports were what had him stumped, though he relied on them, whoever modified either knew that he would not be running into Cover Girl for the oral debriefing. Very few people had access to change the report once uploaded. Let alone write access. Lady Jaye and Scarlett didn't have that kind of access. Only him, Duke, Hawk and Foxland.

GI Joe was a unit made up of the Elite Soldiers and the brightest minds of the DOD, breaking in to the Joe team servers would be cake for any of the members. He was about to tell her just as much when he noticed her bright purple toenails. "You know LT I do not think purple is an authorized color."

She gave him a mock look of surprise, then that damn sweet smile of hers; she always gave it when she was about to get them both in trouble. "Are you going to tattle on me?"

He shook his head no, but said, "Maybe." He was about to explain that she could always make up the indiscretion by some Corrective Action through Physical Education. Naked. Both of them. In Bed. When he was overtaken by a yawn.

"You need sleep." She giggled. He shook his head no, as another yawn overtook him. It was when a third one emerged that he realizes he was tired.

"Maybe your right," She went to get off his lap. Chuckling he tightened his grip on her, she glared at him as she tried to free herself, but he had made it impossible for her to move. His laughter filled the room as she struggled to escape his grasp; he wrapped his legs around her as she got creative and tried to drop her body between his legs and slide to the floor.

He soon found himself in the middle of an impromptu wrestling match with her, which ended in him tickling her until she was breathless. Gone was Flint, completely in this moment he was all Dashiell, no thinking about sneak attacks, close friends getting burned, and what damage a Pirate and Navy Seal could do at a bar. He was just a boy, spending time with the girl, who promised to spend her whole life with him.

He finally gave her relief and found himself smiling as she tried to catch her breath in galls of laughter. But he was the victor, still holding onto her tightly.

"Dash," She tried to look serious, but her laughter wouldn't let her keep a straight face, "You have to let me go."

"No, sleeping," With that he nuzzled his head on her shoulder, pretending to snore.

"Dashiell" He opened one eye looking at her, she glared at him with a mock look of irritation.

"Shhh". He took his hand, covering her eye. "I'm trying to sleep here."

"Bed with pillows," she inclined her head toward the bed piled high with pillows and covers. He blinked at her, she returned his blank look with a stern face, but her giggling was making it impossible for him to keep a straight face.

"You're my pillow," he nestled into her shoulder, taking a leg he threw it over her.

She frowned down at him, shaking her head. "I want a bed."

"Oh, you want a bed?" In an instant, he was standing; her small body nestled in his arms. Her toned arms wrapped quickly around his neck. She squealed, her merriment in his ears fueled his actions. "You better hold on, or I might drop you." With that, he let go slightly.

She let out what he could surmise was a string of curse words, he had heard some before, but others were new. He caught her quickly; the desired result was apparent she hung on tighter to his neck.

He looked down at her, how beautiful she was.

He let his eyes rake over her body; his groin tightened when she made a mewling noise. He adjusted her slightly in his arms, he felt her lips pressed a kiss on the hollow of his throat. "Baby," she begged him.

A growl ripped from his throat, she was his whole world, the only thing that kept him sane. Her innate sweetness and light kept his demons at bay. He had a purpose with her by his side. His job was to make sure that she could walk on this earth with all the skills and knowledge to keep that amazing heart of hers protected, because her heart was what protected his soul.

"Forget getting mushy, Chief, you just got liquid on me," She quipped.

He opened his mouth and realized that he had said his thoughts out loud. With a chuckle, he leaned down, scraping his teeth on Jaye's exposed shoulder. She moaned with pleasure, arching towards him, his hands already working on pulling at the waistband of her shorts. Her hands on his buckle of his belt she looked up at him with such love.

"Don't go changing on me, Lil' bit."

"I love you too, baby." She smiled.


	22. Chapter 22

Still Don't Own...

 _Warning... This is the chapter that started everything in this grand story of mine.. the question was posed can you jump the shark and make it believable... Sometimes yes sometimes no... but its so much fun._

* * *

Justin Peterson smiled to himself as the woman beside him began to stir. In surprise, he watched as her delicate hand reached across and closed the top of his laptop. "I have killed a man for less," he growled.

She looked at him, her eyes unblinking, fearless. He watched as she let her hand move in lazy circles on his thigh. He stared back, beginning a game of wills. Finally, with a chuckle, he gathered her in his arms.

Folding her into him, she sighed. He looked down at this beautiful, small creature with dark, inky black hair and big green eyes. She possessed a natural golden hue to her skin, and across the bridge her nose there were even a few freckles.

The only thing he wished was that she had some name other than Darklon. He shoved the thought aside when he realized she was looking up at him with that unblinking stare of hers.

"Yes?" He glared down at her with amusement, pushing her hair back off her face.

"How long before you think the receiver is ready?" She reached for his hand, placing it against his so she could examine the differences.

He chuckled, his lover did not know the true meaning of pillow talk. "There is no telling, Destro is not firm with a date."

"Of course he's not," She looked up at Justin. "Our little organization built on lies and half-truths; Destro trusts none of us. He might already have the receiver ready; he hasn't told you."

"You two think too much alike." The resemblance was there: the Scottish stubbornness, the same nose, and those green grass eyes. Thank God she did not have his ears.

"All we do is share DNA. It's not like he came to my non-existent birthday parties." The black haired beauty shrugged.

"One: you are not that old for him to have missed that many birthday parties." Peterson pulled himself up to a sitting position. To her delight, he moved her so he could have a conversation and continue to hold on her for a little longer. "Two: he has no clue you exist, and you know it."

The woman pressed up against him, wanton. Peterson chuckled. If they could see the CEO of the hottest new Weapons company right now. Her board of directors would be shocked. Darklon Industries had filled the void when Stark left the business of War. It was created by the former Cobra Commander, with the desire to break free from its ties of MARS.

At the moment, Destro, the donator of half of her DNA makeup and Head of MARS, had no clue what Mindbender had done. The Scottish Laird saw her and her company as another high-tech rival.

He watched as she moved off the bed, irritated. She took the sheet with her, tucking it around her body. Grabbing her tablet, she settled on the floor in front of the massive windows that gave you an amazing view of the Atlanta Skyline.

Darklon began to work on something in her tablet; he could not stop himself from watching her. She was, in essence, a test tube baby. Mindbender's perfect creation, every failure he had with Serpentor he righted with her. So the mad scientist had thought, she had no desire to rule an army.

No, she left that to him; she wanted to make her creations, her deadly weapons, read books and 'hang out' with him. That was the thing with the Clones and Splices; they might be in the bodies of adults, they tended to have the maturity level closer to their true age, and hers was five.

Peterson remembered, in his visits to Mindbender's lab, watching her grow up. What took the span of a natural born human sixteen years to develop, was a paltry two years for her.

He went back to looking at his laptop; reading through emails and polls, skimming through news of the day. A comfortable silence fell between them, and he would find himself staring at her, hard at work.

Her hair pulled off her neck; Peterson could see a small, thin scar on the nape. Even Splices, Clones and Augments need a little help keeping in line with the 'Cobra Way'. He felt his own scar, it should bother him; but he had asked for it, he doubted she had.

Darklon realized he was looking at her and smiled, opening and closing her mouth as if something was on her mind; she finally blurted out. "Tomax told me my mother was in the Basement of the Silent Castle."

Peterson groaned; he wasn't leading a criminal enterprise. He was playing babysitter to a nursery class. Getting out of bed, he walked over to her. Lowering on his haunches, he brushed her bangs off her forehead, "My Love, even I don't know the answer to who your mother is, only Mindbender does."

"You could make him tell you." She said simply.

"I could, but, unfortunately, and you know this; we need him to keep certain elements of Cobra in line." He pressed a kiss on her temple. "So the Twins told you about the Basement."

She shrugged, the movement more of a child than the grown woman she was. He hated the basement of the Silent Castle, the only two people that seemed comfortable in the subterranean floor with those jailed in there was Mindbender and Storm Shadow.

"I would rather see them dead, but, at the moment I will keep my enemies close and you even closer." He trailed his fingers on her bare shoulder taking delight in her smile. "You don't need to talk to them."

"I just talk to Tomax," She made a gesture on her tablet adjusting a measure meant smiling at the results she read. "Xamot terrifies me."

He stopped looking at her, "You actually feel fear?" Emotion for either of them was hard won, a small feeling, a flutter, so for her to admit the feeling of fear was quite telling.

"With Xamot it claws at me, he watches me. I would not leave me alone with him if I were you. I'd kill him."

"Xamot has issues... they both do." He warned her. "But you do have a passing resemblance to someone that Xamot has an obsession with."

"How am I like Lady Jaye?" She asked, making another change to her project. She read the readout and frowned, returning the settings back to normal. "I saw the shrine."

"Beautiful, impetuous, deadly. Both of you are very sexy, dangerous creatures in small packages." He kissed her shoulder. His teeth scraping, she turned to look at him.

He watched a smile cross her face, letting her eyes travel up his body. She was such a wild card; the look she gave him had him wondering if she wanted to have her way with him, slit his throat, or both.

She opened her mouth moving forward, then her face brightened. "I think I know the problem with the spring."

"What spring?" He looked at her confused.

"The new shotgun that we are designing," She explained, as if that would answer everything.

He chuckled, kissing her nose. Leaving her to her work, he raided the courtesy bar and got a bottle of water for her. Turning on the TV, Hector Ramirez was front and center, reporting on a computer hack to a Maersk's computer system with ransomware. Easiest million dollars Cobra had made all week.

Then a story about his speech earlier today, with the Veterans of Foreign Wars in Atlanta. Peterson chuckled as the camera picked up his conversation with General Hawk, showing it as part of the montage footage.

If only the General knew, he thought to himself. Watching the next story about a Hollywood power couple getting a divorce, he heard a knock on the door. Picking up his pants, and pulled them onto the answer to door.

His assistant was standing taking up most of the doorway, but behind him, the room was filled with aides and volunteers working on his campaign.

"The last polls," He waved the computer sheets. "We are looking good, we have the majority of Atlanta and the surrounding metro area. I told you the moderate ticket was the key."

The man looked around the room; his eyes fell on the slight woman sitting next to the window, hard at work. "Darklon."

"Fred, which one are you 953 or 968?" She said blinking up at him.

Justin couldn't help but smile, her emotions might be muted, but she did own a quick wit. How disturbing was it that Mindbender gave them a sense of humor?

Fred 652 turned to Peterson, shutting her out. "Zartan is ready."

"Good," He nodded walking over to his laptop. Opening it up, he began signing into a secure connection with the Mercenary.

"We do have a problem, though," he shuffled, afraid to tell him.

"What?" Peterson glared at him.

"The Joe team is in New Orleans; Snake Eyes is with them." He showed him the pictures taken by the Surveillance Viper.

"Does he remember?" Peterson asked him.

"I do not think so," Fred shrugged. "But this would be a perfect opportunity to finally get rid of the ninja and thief. It was a stroke of luck that Bailey remembered nothing. I have heard it was common with coma patients."

His order was to take out the girl, and make it look like it was the spy guild. The last thing he needed was Destro causing a stink over the Thief's death. Oh, he knew what Destro was hiding about that damn family the Hart-Burnett's. He didn't get to where he was without knowing everyone's secrets.

The issue was that the bug in the Storm Shadow's neck had malfunctioned. Then, Deadpool had shown up, and, well, there was always Gambit. He had to pay Zandar to poison the girl, which should have been simple enough, but Ana Raven showed up. Dumbass Zandar had panicked, killing her and her unborn child.

Fred had been able to clean up some of the mess, Bailey Hart-Burnett had no memory of the events, and his spy within the Joe team was able to slip a powerful concoction in Snake Eye's tea before he could realize that his lover was in trouble.

Love is a powerful emotion; he knew that from experience, as he looked at the over to Darklon. She was the only thing that could make him feel something. If she could to that to him, what could the Thief and Ninja uncover if they were together?

Would they realize how much Cobra has infiltrated, not just the Joe team, but also the Government? Who needs Synthoids when they have been able to persuade those in power with more power? More money? That's the great thing about career politicians; they love their power, and don't want to lose it.

"I don't know." Fred shrugged.

"Tell Zartan, I will help rescue his sister if he delivers Snake Eyes to me." Justin walked over to his black haired beauty. He smiled to himself as she leaned her back to rest on his legs.

"Alive or Dead?" Fred asked.

Peterson chuckled at his lover's expression as her eyes rolled heavenward. She scrunched her nose and mouthed 'Dead'.

"That doesn't matter." She pouted at his words but returned to her tablet. "The twenty million dollars as promised to him and his Dreadnocks, if he captures New Orleans and takes out the Guilds. If he delivers Snake Eyes to the Silent Castle, dead or alive, his bonus: I will rescue his sister."

"We could get the Ninja to talk" Fred offered with a slight smile "And what about the Joes in Miami?"

"Sacrifice Major Blood, ever since Wau he has been slipping. Besides, I would like to see how loyal he is to me. Tell the Twins to hit the hospital; we can not let Stark begin his nanites program." He tapped Darklon's leg with his foot and she looked up at him. "And kill Stark."

He chuckled as she smiled, nodding and biting her lip. "For the moment, tell them to honor Destro's 'no-kill' order with Lady Jaye. She can be a spoil of war."

"And Destro, he is there as well." Fred looked at him with an expression of 'let me go and kill him.' Yes, the 600 series seemed to be a bloodthirsty lot.

Justin chuckled "Let him finish the receiver; it's less work for Darklon."

"What do you think?" He helped Darklon to her feet. He couldn't help but wonder, was what he was feeling love? He wished it was brighter.

She pressed her toned body into his. "Let them enjoy tonight, then kill them all."

"You are a bloodthirsty little creature," He smiled down at her.

"I was created that way" she shrugged. Standing on tiptoe letting her lips brush his.

* * *

The steam of the bathroom clung to the mirror; Destro swiped it away, looking at his warped image. He couldn't help but wonder when he got so old. Chuckling at his vanity, he silently asked himself, 'What did it matter, when he spent most of the day wearing an iron mask?'

Touching the frown lines around his mouth, the lines on his forehead he couldn't help but wonder, 'Would his children recognize him?' Sighing, he reminded himself that it was almost over; that do or die, he would look into their faces as himself, not as Destro. Rinsing off his razor, he placed it in his travel bag and made his way into the master bedroom of his suite.

His empty bed called to him for sleep. As much as the Baroness would like, he never did stay with her the whole night. He slunk out of her room under the guise of a myriad of reasons. If she would see who he was he would have a lot of explaining to do, and that could end up being deadly. As much as he grew wearisome of her, he would loathe to hurt that body of hers.

'Oh, the lies we weave when we deceive,' The Arms Dealer thought to himself, as he reached down to pull out a pair of jeans from his suitcase. Behind him, he heard his door open.

"You know the hotel offers robes," Alistair grumbled. Destro glared at him, the man in return, gave him a cheeky smile. "Just saying, old man, I don't want the last thing at night I see is your shriveled balls."

Destro chuckled. When he wore his full regalia, Alistair treated him as Lord and Master. Out of the mask, he was a childhood friend. That suited Destro fine; it gave him a break from being the monster. The damn silver mask had become a prop in the very dangerous game he was playing. But it allowed him to reason away that everything he did was the character Destro and not… him.

"At least I have both of mine; last I looked, your wife has yours on the mantle." Destro pointed out.

"She bronzed them at least, dusts them every time I'm home. Isn't that what matters?" He grinned. "So, as far as I'm concerned, she can put them where ever she wants, not Rochdale, never Rochdale."

"But, it's a quaint little village." Destro pointed out.

Alistair glared and sighed, "I have the intel reports, would you like me to put them next to your coconut shells?"

"You were right there with me that Halloween." Destro was not going to let his friend get away with him thinking he was the only loon.

Alistair smiled, looking through the intelligence briefing. Destro watched his friend shake his head; irritation, then worry, crossed his face.

He looked at his friends face. "How bad is it?" The Arms Dealer asked.

Alistair scowled at the tablet. "It's full of bad news, worse news, and news that, if you were a different man, I would be afraid that you would kill me."

Destro sighed. "What is our esteemed Commander up to?"

"He is taking out New Orleans' Guilds, or trying to, in the morning. It seems that Beau Richards body was found by local cops. Though the Dreadnocks retrieved the body, they are putting a lot onto the citizens of NOLA belief system of Voodoo, Vampires, and things that go bump in the night. Cobra Commander is going to go to plan F: take over New Orleans Guilds across the board."

"It matters not; my business with the Commander will be concluded soon, or we will use their mistakes to make the final blow." It then dawned on Destro on he never gave Alistair the choice; he took for credit that his old friend would back up any move that he planned. "I will understand, If you…"

"You want me to miss out on the fun?" Alistair looked at Destro irritated that he would even suggest the idea of him not joining in on the fun. "I think not."

Destro nodded "So, tell me the bad news."

"That's the bad news, the worse news is our spy says Cobra Commander had a late and very naked dinner with Darklon."

"He thinks that I do not know that the former Lt. Gorky is not the true head of Darklon industries? I will admit that the true Darklon has me intrigued." Destro pulled out a plain black t-shirt and pulled it over his head.

"Our spy was not able to uncover much," Alistair leaned up against the desk. "What we do know, she was genetically produced around the time of the 700 series of Fred's; unlike them, though, she has been artificially aged, a splice as they call them so eloquently."

"Alistair, what the hell I have gotten myself into?" Destro wondered out loud.

"What we would do for love," Alistair shrugged. "Though, if you ask me, this has a certain similarity to Star Wars."

Destro sighed. "You get on to me for Monty Python references, but, Star Wars, my friend? I should kill you for that."

He walked over to the travel bar, pouring two fingers of whiskey, "Darklon wants MARS. That cannot happen. There are too many damn secrets in that place; my father worked on things that no man should have in his arsenal."

"Mayweather has dismantled most of them, but, as long as the technicians that worked on the projects live..."

"I have already failed the Hart Clan; I will not fail those men in my employ. Many of them have no clue on the importance and destruction of the projects they worked on. There are days I wish I could close MARS' doors. Too many of the McCullen's and the Hart's rely on their living from the factories and labs." He looked into his whiskey glass sighing, "What else have you for me?"

Alistair chuckled "Thrasher and Roadpig are in jail."

Destro rolled his eyes. "Let me guess, They responsible for the carnage on Bricknell Road?"

"Those two are not the brightest crayons in the bunch." Alistair pointed out. "Sometimes I wonder if Road Pig has more intelligence than Thrasher."

"No, Thrasher is not that bright, but Mayhem, on the other hand…" Destro said getting a refill, offering a glass to Alistair, who waved him off.

"He tried to take out his twin sister to get information to her." Alistair glared at Destro "How is that smart?"

Destro laughed "We pulled worse stunts to get information to each other. Remember the dual?"

"I am trying to forget that one," Alistair chuckled. "Oh, to be young and stupid again."

"Alistair, we might not be young, but, we are still stupid." Destro took the tablet, looking at the picture of the Thunder machine in flames. Thrasher and Road Pig in handcuffs; Thrasher was actually hogtied.

"Takes sibling rivalry to a whole new level." Alistair quipped.

"The Hart's have always been a wild bunch," Destro chuckled. "Rumor has it, they didn't come out of the moors until Lady Jaymerson went to help George Washington."

"The Original Lady Jaye." Alistair walked over to the small mini fridge taking out a soda. "Did you ever put any stock in the rumor that she was Agent 355?"

Destro sighed, letting his thoughts wander. What exactly did the current Lady Jaye know about her code name; did she know that she was not the first to go by that name? What an honor it was?

"So, as of yet, I have received no news that would have me killing the messenger." Destro sat down in a chair, looking at his friend.

Alistair let out a sigh, "It seems Hawk has brought another Hart on the playing field."

Destro took the tablet: the first picture was several Joes offloading from a C-130; there was Cover Girl and Gung-Ho. The next picture was Snake Eyes. Standing next to him was the 'Joe' that had caught Alistair's eye: a honey blonde in tan cargo pants and a blue t-shirt.

His ire grew with pictures four, five and six; her getting into an SUV, stopping at a small market, and leaving. On picture seven, he stilled as his anger dissipated to ice cold fear; a perfectly-timed shot. The girl's hip, out in a way he could see it; a small plastic box on her hip. One could explain it away as a pager or cell phone, but he knew better. The white tubing running under her shirt confirmed his thoughts.

"That's an insulin pump." He swore. "How? My intel did not pick any of that up."

"I don't know," He sighed taking back the tablet. "We do not spy on the Joe team proper, just The Hart and her siblings. It seems that, to them, when this happened it was of no consequence. Like The Hart losing her eye, or Faireborn losing his leg. They marshal on." Alistair commented.

Destro shook his head, thinking of all the ways Cobra could use this intel against the Harts.

"There is some good news." Alistair handed back the tablet to Destro

"How? Cobra Commander has ordered another attack on New Orleans, with Bailey in the middle of it. How the hell can I go forward with my plans? I could get her killed." Memories of her, six years old, on the beach in Glasgow in a small scuba suit, learning to surf. He could see it like it was yesterday, with her bubbly window pane smile, looking up at him with adoring eyes.

Destro looked at the last picture; Bailey was standing next to Snake Eyes, the Joe had his hand on top of her head. It looked like he was in the middle of teasing her. It was the nuances of the Ninja's stance that surprised him. This was a boyfriend teasing a girlfriend.

"Now, I am not an expert on sustaining a relationship like you, my Lord. What I do know, is the beginning, the part you will do anything for a girl. This is the beginning part." Alistair said looking at the picture. "Well, those two _do_ have a type."

"Their mother did, too." Destro smiled fondly. "Her husband would have, very much in line with a man of action type, a little rough around the edges, handsome in an unconventional way."

Alistair looked up at Destro, shaking his head. "Are you really comparing yourself to Flint and Snake Eyes, with those ears?"

Destro smiled, as he gave Alistair the finger.


	23. Chapter 23

The soft neigh of a horse gave Ealasaid pause; she was home. The thought had her remembering her phone conversation with Hawk, then, a sleepy Lady Jaye had her smiling into her teacup. Now, Raven's one-sided phone conversation, which was a combination of idiocy and humor, had her trying not to laugh.

"Duke, I don't care, she is not a Joe," Raven growled. There was a beat, then. "Emergency Vet does not make you a Joe."

His handsome Greek features marred into a scowl. "Don't give me the 'Needs-of-the-Army' crap. Use that with Snake Eyes; he is not stupid, he will notice when he has an office in the PIT, not the training rooms. I hope he puts a throwing star in your ass, then."

He pulled the phone away from his ear "Okay, we're short staffed. I get that, you want me to wake Jack up in the morning and put him in Battle Rattle, I can, or how about Kip? If Flint can stay in the Army because of losing a leg, why not have Kip in his wheelchair? We'll give him the codename Wheels and his MOS can be putting mints on the other green shirts bed."

This time his mouth went agape. "I am not making fun of Kip being in a wheelchair, no I have no problem with his job. Duke, you are changing the subject."

He sighed walking up to her worry in his eyes. Then something else, his aquamarine eyes narrowed. "What do you mean Snake Eyes won't let anything happen to her?"

Another beat which had him throwing up his free hand and pacing. "No, I know nothing about the flight line plans for next month's movement to Washington DC. I told you to stop changing the subject; you tell me or put your wife on the phone... I like her better anyway."

"YOU WHAT?" Simon roared, getting this ruddy complexion as his aquamarine eyes darkened. "No, No, No. I will have a conversation with the Master Sergeant. Good. Night. Duke."

He seemed pleased with himself for hanging up on the Joe Team's Active Duty First Sergeant as he turned around to call his niece. Realizing that he had locked the screen, he tried to get it back open. He was so aggravated that he was using the wrong finger to unlock it. He went to throw it, but Ealasaid jumped in and stopped him.

"These damn kids, all them, have lost their damn minds." He looked at her.

"Remember Simon" She smiled at him. "We were once those 'Damn kids'."

He stared at her. "Look where it got us."

She placed her palm flat on his chest looking up at his face and gave him a bittersweet smile. When did he get those silver strands in the inky blackness of his hair? She sighed, realizing how quickly time passes, and how much it was showing in both of their features. How much had they missed, how much had they sacrificed?

The question was about her being undercover. How much of that was to stop Cobra or for to get revenge? Did she throw away eighteen years of her life, for her overwhelming desire to destroy the man who killed her friends and decimated her clan?

She always wondered, _"Why didn't Simon move forward? Find himself a pretty Greek girl, who Ealasaid would hate, but, would make him happy."_ She would love his family and could make stuffed Grape Leaves. Not him waiting for someone who couldn't walk away from her rage, her vengeance.

It was time to come home, especially, when she and Raven still had a chance for a life together, if he still wanted her.

"Baby, I can't stand that look on your face," Simon's Boston accented voice caused her to chuckle. "I'm worried about those kids; I never wanted any of them to be in this life."

Ealasaid watched him looking at the clock. It was late, or early, depending on how you looked at it. "What time do you need to leave?"

She looked down at her watch, which she had first seen it in an antique store in Greta Green. The art deco design had called to her, but the shop had been busy, and she didn't want to be late for a meeting.

Three weeks later, she had found it, latched on her steering wheel. No note, just engraved with: 'ca caw coo'. To most it was gibberish; to her, it made perfect sense, that's how Ravens say 'I love you'.

"My first debrief is oh-nine-thirty." She smiled, the Joe team tended to play fast and loose with debriefs. Once she had gone a whole three days after a mission before giving her verbal account.

"We have a few hours," Raven glared at the clock, the need to rewind the time clear on his face. "Want to get some cherry pie over at the Diner?"

The spy smiled; it was her favorite with the crust that tasted almost like sugar cookies. Add a cup of coffee sweetened to the point that her teeth hurt when she drank it. It was tempting, but two other things tempted her a helluva lot more; one had crisp white sheets, and the other was downstairs, neighing every once in a while. "No, but you can take me after my meetings with Hawk, Duke, and Scarlett."

"I wouldn't hate it," He realized where part of her thought processes was going. "but will you have time?"

She broke into a slow smile, taking pleasure in the confusion on his face. "I am going to be busy today. I have to check up on the Dojo. Scarlett, Snake Eyes and Rock and Roll, I trust. Who the hell is this Beachhead I keep hearing about? What kind of name is that, Beachhead? More importantly, why does nobody like him?"

"What?" Raven's face held a look of disbelief; the expression was so priceless she couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm not going back; in three hours, I am going to die in a fatal car crash." She put both hands on the side of his face, laughing at his look of disbelief. "I have enough intel; the next few weeks are going to be busy, for all of us."

"You mean?" His boyish look broke her heart. God, what had she put him through? It took everything to not lean into his chest and cry? But, it was over. She had a lifetime to make it up to him.

"Helix is back; just in time, it looks like it, if Duke is putting Bailey in the field. The girl is terrified of hermit crabs. What surfer is afraid of Hermit crabs?" Helix looked at Raven.

He smiled kissing her deeply; she let out a little moan, pulling her self closer into his body. She heard more soft neighing; she stilled smiling into his mouth. With a giggle, she pulled away and began hunting a pair of shoes.

"Where are you going?" Raven looked so confused, it was adorable.

"Downstairs, I hear a foul neighing," She looked up smiling, "After looking at your ugly mug all night. I need to see something cute."

"Listen to you," He went to rush after her. She squealed racing toward the door, opening it up, she slid to a stop. The sight before her had her speechless.

She turned and tried to push the Greek God of a man backward. The problem was if Raven didn't want to move, you weren't going to move him.

"I am going to kill him." Raven hissed through clenched teeth.

Helix had never seen her lover this angry, even when Bailey put unicorn stickers all over the back window of his orange Nova. In retrospect, a five-year-old putting sticker on the glass window in an attempt to help is far different than what they were watching a seventeen-year-old Jack Hart-Burnett do.

Helix walked over to the window; she had to make sure that she saw the youngest Hart-Burnett, sneaking in at midnight, an hour past his curfew, on a school night.

"That boy is dead." Raven let an evil smile cross his face.

Together they watched as Jack moved in the garage covering up his crime in a heavy car cover. Raven's ire seemed to calm as the light went out, the teenager armed the alarm, and locked the doors.

Giving a sideways glance, she swore. The expression was what one he wore right before he pulled some major prank. She wanted to point out that he was a grown adult, that not only that he was the Joe team's reserve First Sergeant, but a prominent business owner.

She didn't bother; Raven was already putting the wheels in motion. When he was done, the wannabe auto thief would wish he had never heard the words Shelby Cobra.

* * *

"LAST CALL!" The Bartender yelled as they rang a huge triangle, attached to one end of the bar. The crowd complained, but most bummed rushed the bar to get their last drink. The Bartender worked the crowd, getting the orders in, before turning to fill them.

Cover Girl watched as Gambit motioned to see if she wanted another beer but she waved him off. "Well, looks like we were wrong."

Gambit leaned back in his chair, stretching out his long legs and Cover Girl couldn't help but appreciate his physique. He was handsome, with light blonde hair and mismatched eyes. Dressed in black jeans with a white Henley and his hair had that was that carefully styled 'tousled look'. "No Chère, we still have time, the real fun doesn't begin to after the last call."

She looked at him in disbelief, then turned her attention to Gung-Ho, who chuckled. "Last Call is for the tourists and the 'normies.' This is a sanctuary. When you have a job that has you slinking in the shadows, you don't come out of the shadows for a beer until after midnight."

"How very Hogwarts." She split her unamused stare between the two men.

"Not really, Chère, it's how things are done." Remy shrugs "The Guilds are as old as the Clans. Some think that the routes of the Guilds go all the way back to the Egyptian times. There are legends that we were the right hand of the General Ramus, where…"

"The left hand was his slave, actually she was his lover, a Celtic warrior princess from the Isle of Sky. The General laid claim on her during a skirmish with the Romans." Cover Girl added, "They fell in love with each other. Unfortunately, those two did not get a happy ending; they both were killed by the Roman Special Forces group called the Serpents. Rumor has it that their only daughter did escape and became the mythical Queen Scáthach."

Gambit looked at her surprised. "Impressive, the legend is archaic. Many of the top scholars in their fields don't know of its existence."

"Let me guess: the thieves' guild was tasked with guarding the diamond?" Cover Girl looked at him pointedly.

"The Star of Heaven." He nodded returning her look. "A wedding gift from the General to his Princess. It is said that it's cursed, that whoever touched it would either find great honor or terrible doom. Depending on whether their heart is considered worthy."

"It's not legend," Gung-Ho scanning the room again.

"Sure, and the Mona Lisa at the Louvre is real." He looked at both of them. "Traded out during the Robbery of 1911, the thief returned the forgery, not the real one. Come on everyone knows that."

"So, where is the real Mona Lisa?" Cover Girl couldn't help believe that the Mona Lisa was not the true painting.

"I refuse to answer that because I want to see you again," Gambit said, with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Careful CG, Remy is a flirt," Gung-Ho warned. "He's worse than Shipwreck, the only difference is, Remy here, has taste. He doesn't throw things at the wall to see what sticks."

Gambit shrugged. Cover Girl got the feeling that Gung-Ho was teasing him. She examined the Cajun closely and wondered, _"Was this was all there was, to see a handsome Widower with a devil may care attitude? Or, was he really good at hiding his feelings?"_

Finally, he spoke. "Cousin, you have been holding out on me."

"About the diamond? It's in a vault on the Joe team base, with a security system that our best can't break." Gung-Ho shrugged.

"No, that's not what I am talking about." He asked, his eyes never leaving Cover Girls. "Why haven't you brought her around the bayou?"

Cover Girl couldn't help but blush; it wasn't often that she heard flirting that didn't start with some cheesy, half-assed pickup line. Gung-Ho, though, was not amused. "Do you two want to get a room?"

"I would say yes," Gambit turned his attention to his cousin. "But, I think that Bailey and Snake Eyes need some time alone."

"So, your objection had nothing to do with her poisoner being out here?" Cover Girl asked, intrigued Bailey had adamantly told her that ninja's and thieves do not mix.

"So cuz, what the hell did Snake Eyes do on Bourbon Street?" Gung-Ho asked, not taking his eyes off the front door.

Gambit looked at them. Surprise on his face. "He never told you? Not that he's the talkative type."

He took a drink of his water and sighed, "The schizophrenic in common goes by the name of Wade Wilson, and he is eleven eggs short of a dozen. Keep in mind, it makes him good at what he does, which are things that none of the rest of us want to touch. Zartan did some subcontracting to Wilson; seemed the mercenary needed him to take out a witness to a crime."

Gambit took a beat looking around the room, he whispered. "Now, I don't know why Snakes was in town, none of my business. After he was done with whatever he was working on, he did help me take care of the problem."

The Thief took the last drink of his beer, scowling and contemplating if he wanted another. "Still not sure how Zartan survived Wilson when he figured out that he had lain too."

"And you're not against Bailey being with Snake Eyes? I thought that was a no-go; Ninja's and thieves."

Gambit looked confused. "Where would Bailey get that? Ninja is just a fancy word for Spy. Snake Eyes has an alignment with the Blind Master, which makes him a friend of New Orleans Guild."

"But, you said you wouldn't call a conclave on them." Gung-Ho pointed out.

"That's for them stealing my Porsche to save the family Wilson was trying to kill," Gambit explained. "Grayson found out about it and has been threating to tell the conclave. I tried to tell him, after the fact, I lent it to her, but you know spies…"

"They know where you hide the bodies." Gung-Ho sighed. "Maybe all that trivia that Bailey keeps in her head finally started dumping other things out."

"Gung-Ho, that girl's memory almost puts mine to shame." Cover Girl pointed out. Realizing that Gambit was looking at her intrigued. "I have a really good memory." She defended herself.

What she didn't tell the thief was, there was a term for her memory: Eidetic. She remembered things like pictures and smells, and, if prompted, she could recall what she saw with a 100% accuracy. It was great in most cases: grocery shopping, working on motors, and, which dress will go with those new stilettos you bought. Except, when it came to things like your ex-husband beating the shit out of you, and seeing the damage that Storm Shadow wrought against the Conclave when they were in Paris. Well, that was different.

"Bailey lost her memories leading up to her..." Gung Ho couldn't finish his thought. As ugly and scary the six-foot-four Marine was, he was one of the biggest softies Cover Girl knew. The Cajun had a soft spot for the Hart Girls, having been one of the Joes that responded to the terror at the farmhouse.

"She died and was revived." Cover Girl explained. "Doc said that it was common with people who had gone through that to have memory loss."

"I always thought that Bailey walked in on someone trying to hurt Anna. I thought they poisoned Bailey because they wanted to make a huge statement to the Joe team. What if we had it all wrong? What if Anna tried to help Bailey?" Gambit looked at his beer bottle. "What if Bailey was poisoned to cover something up?"

"But, Snake Eyes being here, before, you don't think… something made both of them forget?" Gung-Ho asked.

"It's Snake Eyes; I couldn't see anyone doing anything to make him forget." Cover Girl looked at the Marine. "I mean, nobody makes Snake Eyes do anything Snake Eyes doesn't want to do."

"It's a working theory." Gung-Ho shrugged.

"Because the other one is crashing and burning." Cover Girl said looking around the bar as the crowd thinned out. She saw that the people that stayed all wore similar tattoos on their wrist and were a far more colorful cast of characters. The one thing lacking was Grayson Sterling.

"I would love to say I am sorry, that I was wrong, and I have wasted your time. But I'm not, I have enjoyed this time together." Gambit smiled.

Cover Girl blinked, wondering if this man might actually be sincere with what he was saying to her. Or was he like so many other men that actually had the balls to talk to her, wanting only one thing to tell people: that they had taken Courtney Krieger to bed?

"Or maybe, we weren't patient enough," Gung-Ho nodding at the door.

Standing at the door was a man in his early thirties, wearing straight leg jeans, boat shoes, and a light green button up shirt with a grey sweater overtop to keep away the chill. Next, to him, was a beautiful blonde dressed in a pretty, blue polka dotted dress. The two of them together brought back visions of the Donna Reed show.

Behind the perfect couple, was their entourage.

Examining them, Cover Girl could make out the three founding members of the Dreadnocks, dressed as respectable businessmen. She let her eyes scan the room; there, talking to the bartender was a blonde, twenty-something Zandar. All they were missing was Zarana; since the Joe team had her in custody, there was no way she was going to join this party. "I think I threw up in my mouth a little." Cover Girl moaned.

Gung-Ho watched as Grayson smiled, kissing the inside of the blonde's wrist. "Amy Matheson, her family life? Not the greatest, and she is Grayson's weak spot. His father refused to allow them to marry, but he does keep her stringing along."

"We had no intel on her." Cover Girl whispered, "But those," she pointed out, "They're the founding members of the Dreadnocks."

"That does not look like a man in mourning" Gung-Ho pointed out. As Grayson took the drinks offered by his brother. "This is not acceptable behavior, if your daddy just died, I don't care who you are."

Gambit nodded "Well, let's see what he has to say."

Cover Girl watched as Gambit made his way over to the table; a short conversation ensued. The Spy Guild member nodded, motioning for his brother to take Amy away. With a chilling smile, he turned and then looked at them. Gambit looked furious. Then the man's face turned in front of them all to the very familiar visage of Zartan. Gambit screamed to the crowd, "RUN!"

Gambit's Thieves jumped into action, as did Gung-Ho and Cover Girl. They made their way towards the closest exit only to slide to a stop. Waiting for them was Gnawgahyde and Heartwrencher.

Of all the sights that Cover Girl wanted to desperately forget, was the sight of the angelic blonde with her sightless eyes, looking into nothing, terror frozen on her face. The blood still flowing on the Heartwrencher's arm from where it had been severed, then placed on a stake would cause her nightmares in the future. But, at this moment, it was causing a gagging noise from Gung-Ho and an inhuman roar from Gambit.

Heartwrencher smiled at the head, "Don't worry, Lover Boy, you will be taking a place next to your ex soon enough."

"Bella Donna is Dead, and you will be too, Gambit," Zartan explained. "By nights' end I will be in control of all three of the New Orleans Guilds."

He walked up to Cover Girl, looking her up and down with a sneer. "You really have let yourself go since that sport Illustrated cover. I mean, being a mom does that, I suppose. Do you wear mom jeans?" He clucked.

Cover Girl ground her teeth. It was a psychological tactic; the Joe team had been compromised, but unlike other members, she was one of the few that had a public life. A simple Google search and you can find out about her, her son, and worse. She took a calming breath; at the moment, she had to save herself and her teammates, then she could worry about Colt.

Cover Girl snarled as she watched Zartan walk over to the Dreadnocks. With a proud smile, he looked at each one, clapping them on the back and shaking hands like a regular politician. "Road Pig and Thrasher are missing all the fun!"

His henchmen roared; Zartan turned smiling again as four SUVs arrived. Through the lightly tinted windows, Cover Girl could see Crimson Guards sitting in them.

The head of the Dreadnocks walked over to the Lead Car. "Someone bring me SNAKE EYES!"

"Oh, hell no." Gung-Ho roared.

The crowd echoed their sentiment. What Grayson was doing was unheard of, he was going to pay for this. One brave soul, a tall African-American man with the mark of the assassin guild, stepped forward. "We fight!"

Then, the area erupted into a free-for-all. Cover Girl scanned the parking lot to see where Zartan ran off to. She was about to help a tall Middle Eastern man take on Buzzer when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash.

She ducked in time to dodge a massive pipe wrench. Looking back in the direction of her attacker, she saw Heartwrencher's expression of irritation. Cover Girl shook her head and looked at her in disgust. "Really? A wrench?"

The woman roared, Cover Girl dodged again, then, in a move that would make Scarlett proud, she grabbed the bigger woman's wrist and punched her elbow. She tried not to think about the crunching of bones under her fist. She, then, went to grab the stupid, but effective, weapon. It was easy to get out of the Dreadnocks hand, now that Cover Girl had shattered the other woman's elbow.

In a move that would make Babe Ruth proud, the former model used the wrench as a bat. With a squish, she connected with the woman's stomach. As the Dreadnock doubled over, Cover Girl hit Heartwrencher on the back. There was a sense of victory in the Joe as she watched the woman collapsed with a thud.

Behind her, Cover Girl turned to see a smaller female Dreadnock scream. "Pokey?"

Cover Girl sighed as the small purple hair raced toward her. The former model held out her hand in a fist and watched in amazement as the small girl ran into her fist breaking her nose. It always surprised her how many times that move actually worked.

Sighing, she looked again at the fray; Cover Girl waded through the crush of bodies to help Gung-Ho. It seemed Gnawgahyde was actually chewing on the Marine's leg. Who does that? This was the reason she drove a tank; she hated hand-to-hand combat.


	24. Chapter 24

Still _Don't own..._

* * *

Four hours ago, Snake Eyes had no designs on seduction; he was curious as to why Bailey was sitting at the end of her property, almost motionless. He had made his way out to her, enjoying the chill in the spring air.

The closer he got, he realized that she was talking to… a squirrel. There was this beautiful woman sitting motionless with an almond in her hand, whispering to the woodland creature. He watched as the animal darted and danced around her. It stood on its haunches to sniff the air, and, in a flash, its tiny paws took the almond. With a chattering song, it raced back for the trees.

Bailey turned to him with a wide smile, raising up she opened her mouth to ask if he wanted to try; she never got the words out. She was in his arms, her lips on his. For that moment in time, she was his.

As he pushed her into the house, in a flurry of clothes and teeth scraping, he found he wanted to know everything about her. What was she scared of? Did she kill spiders or let them free? Did she sing off key in the shower? When she was sad, did she go for chocolates or the cookie dough?

As Snake Eyes laid her on her bed, need slamming into him as her body arching towards him, her blue eyes bright with desire, he came to a realization. The Ninja knew that tonight was it. If, in the morning light she realized that his scars, his job, and his life were not for her, he would hate to see her go. But, he would cling to this moment, the hope it had brought him; that missing piece he craved, he had found in her. Even though the thought of BB Hart-Burnett not staying cut a little deeper than he would have liked.

A little while later, after both of them were spent, he saw the woman in his arms was happy; amazingly, he was the cause. Placing a kiss on the top off her head he weaved his legs in hers and enjoyed the feel of her skin under his fingertips. It wasn't long before he dozed off. Waking when Timber felt the crazy humans were done with their insanity jumped onto the bed. He watched his wolf as she sniffed at him, then Bailey, choosing her over him.

Scratching her at the ears, he watched Timber lick Bailey's face. Roscoe was at home, in the care of Bailey's brother. Snake Eyes wondered if Timber was picking up the Labs slack. Looking at the clock on the side of her bed, he swore they had come up here about nine and it was almost one in the morning.

She had taken the pump off at some point in their activities. Snake Eyes figured she had been off the device way too long. Taking his knuckle, he softly rubbed on her temple to get her attention. Her blue eyes focused on him, and she smiled lazily. Her eyes never wavering from his she planted a kiss on his cheek. He shook his head at her, then mouthed the words, "Pump, baby."

Bailey acted like she didn't understand; she feigned fascination in a scar that ran from his left breast down to his right hip. The Commando watched, in disbelief, as she snuggled closer into his chest and closed her eyes, fake snoring coming from her mouth. The girl was a fast learner in how to ignore him.

Oh, Snake Eyes was going to have none of that. Wrapping both arms around her, he rolled over to the side table where they had placed the device so many hours earlier.

His body reacted as his lips caressed her neck. He had no clue what she was saying, but her eyes pleaded, in a way that needed no interpretation. He might be a man that possessed great self-restraint. He could deny her nothing; especially, when grey flakes in her eyes turned molten silver.

Finally, he did hook her up to her pump… After.

Then came the blood test, which had her balking. Snake Eyes wasn't an idiot; Bailey wanted this time between them to be normal. Not have the disease dictate to her when she could and couldn't be with him.

Snake Eyes realized she was already winding herself around his heart. He wanted her to stay around for awhile, healthy. His desire to take care of her and her Scottish stubbornness came into play as he found himself in an impromptu wrestling match over her blood monitor. Not only did his Nymph have a dirty mouth, she also fought dirty.

Victory had almost been hers as she tried to give him a purple nurple. Thankfully, just like she had grown up with an older brother, he had an older sister and knew the move. He was quickly able to dodge it. "This is not fair!" She pouted as he finally got it out of her hands.

He smiled and cried out in triumph. True, the sound was distorted, coming out like nonsense, but the reason for the yell was more important.

She tried to reach for it, and Snake Eyes placed his palm on her forehead, keeping her back. Chuckling to himself at her expression of ire, he gave the device a summary examination.

His companion seemed irritated that he now had control of it. "Fine, but you have no idea how to read it." She said smugly. "And it says that my levels are fine."

He gave a sideways look at her and let his eyebrows fly up, as crispy as he might be he still could rock the expression of disbelief. He had learned it from working with a bunch of crazy people. GI Joe is the best and brightest; but what does it say about the people you work with that he was considered normal?

Unfortunately for them both, he was not going to go another round without checking for himself that her blood sugar levels were good. He shook a finger at her, side to side. He chuckled, kissing her, enjoying how she moved instinctively closer to him. He pulled her even closer, pulled at her long legs draping them over his lap.

He took her finger in his hand, her pout got even bigger, sticking her bottom lip out as far as it would go. He chuckled kissing her nose then her bottom lip, as he did he attacked.

Ninjas were the masters of distraction; using all his skills of subterfuge, he deepened the kiss. She moaned in his mouth, putting her hand around his neck. He took the opening, capturing her hand, he smiled widely listening to her use his favorite curse word. As he took her blood and ran the at the numbers on the screen he sighed. Then turned to her giving her a black look.

"What?" She looked at him innocently.

He placed the monitor in his lap. Allowing his hands to be free, he quickly signed. "Food is what."

She sighed, pulling the sheet he was sitting on to cover herself, as she went to go downstairs. He stopped her "I think I can handle a midnight snack."

She glared at him not quite believing him, then her face broke into a wide smile. "Kiwi?"

He kissed her. "Kiwi," he mouthed.

Bailey giggled, raising up onto her knees, she let the sheet drop exposing her body to him pulling at him. She kissed him pressing her body flush against his. He enjoyed the kiss but pulled away from her. "No more until your numbers are better."

He bit his lip as he watched her eyes rake over his body. He wanted to scream: Do you not see what I look like? Are you not noticing the scars and the burns? The tattoos that are destroyed?

He kept his mouth shut; he was going to be selfish when it came to her. He should try to talk her out of this, tell her this was insane. Instead, he reached down giving her a kiss, smiling in her mouth at the feel of her fingertips on the side of his face.

She pulled away, "You better hurry, Timber might not want to give you back your spot."

With that, Bailey fell back into the bed. Patting next to her, Timber nestled herself close to the Thief's side. As he walked out of the bedroom, he swore the two were gossiping about him.

Smiling, he opened the door to the fridge. He took a minute to take in the contents; he had to admit that Cover Girl had lived up to her code name. She had Bailey's six when it came to making sure that her friend had food in case of her sugar dropping.

Pulling out the kiwi, some cheese, and turkey, Snake Eyes wondered if Bailey would like one of his favorite treats. He rummaged through his ruck and pulled out a bottle of Tajin Seasoning.

Making his way back to the counter, he made quick work of the Kiwis and cheese with his camp knife. He did spend a few minutes trying figure out what happened to her knives.

Like her, he figured that it was some crazy stunt of Mayhems on his down time; he thought nothing more of it. Picking up his camp knife he ran it under water and began drying it with a kitchen towel with a Christmas wreath on it.

A reminder that she hadn't been back since that night. He remembered seeing BB shortly after being poisoned, how small and pitiful she looked. He knew her numbers were just now becoming manageable. A month before she graduated Vet school, he had come to her rescue when her sugar dropped so low she went into a seizure.

She had stuck two cookies in his lunch for a week after that, plus a roll of stickers with Ninjas on them. He smiled he had put the damn things everywhere. One on his laptop, another on his Tattoo Kit, one even made its way on his shave bag. it made him smile every time he saw it. If he continued this path, he would be right where he needed to be. He was even wondering if Doc still had that information about voice therapy.

Putting the towel down, Snake Eyes smiled. Which turned to a frown as he looked down at his chest and swore. A red dot sat center mass.

Faster than the human eye could see, and quieter than a feather, he dropped to the floor behind the small kitchen island. He quickly shifted himself with his back against the island, and subsequently facing the opposite direction of the oncoming threat. Pulling his camp knife, he used the glass-like surface to see three armed Cobra Troopers entering the room. Raising up to throw his knife, his ears were pierced as he heard three rapid-fire pops behind him. He watched as all the intruders dropped to the ground, blood seeping from a hole between each of their eyes.

Turning, he saw his Water Nymph, smiling saucily at him. Then his eyes widened as a fourth Crimson Guard was coming up behind her. He gave a shrill whistle; she dropped down, allowing him to throw his knife.

It met the mark; as the man fell, Bailey grabbed the handle of the blade and pulled. She looked at the bloody knife and wiped it on the hem of his shirt she was wearing, handing it back to him.

"Didn't have time to grab your Katana; something tells me you will need this more." She smiled handing him his Sig, "The house is surrounded; six more on the outside."

There was a noise outside the window to their right; Bailey held three fingers and pointed to the dining room, then motioned for them to go upstairs. He had to admit, she impressed him with how easily she moved through the house with her sidearm. He wondered that, if Lady Jaye's jokes that they went to Q School instead of Disney World for summer vacations had a grain of truth to them.

On cue, as they passed the dining room, they heard a crashing noise. Looking to the side of him, he saw three Crimson Guard members crashing through the windows. He and Bailey both dove as the intruders opened fire on them.

He pushed her up the stairs and reached into the shirt that Bailey was wearing, pulling out two small concentrated smoke canisters. With a smile, he dropped them both down the stairs as the Crimson Guards came into view.

Snake Eyes wasn't surprised that Bailey could fight with ease under the of the thick, heavy smoke. They each took a foe, and made easy work of them. The last one they tag-teamed; with him sending a haymaker to the man's face, uppercut to his stomach, and as he teetered, Bailey took the low road with a sweeping kick.

Once they had cleared the room, they raced down a hallway and turned toward her Master Bedroom where his Katana should be. They almost got to the door when they saw two more Crimson Guard members were making their way in through the second floor window. The pair of Joes quickly turned to go to the other end of the hallway, hearing behind them Timber's growling and jaws snapping.

One, two steps and the guest bedroom opened behind him. "Look at Joe in his underwear." The Crimson Guard coming up behind him chuckled.

Snake Eyes turned; while he did, he inhaled some of the smoke that was already filling the room. Staring at the man he exhaled through his nose. The Cobra soldier took a step back, then another.

"Dude, did you just piss yourself?" Bailey asked the intruder in disgust. He turned, running into the wall, knocking himself out. "Well, that was easy." BB laughed. "Allie wasn't kidding that some of these guys are easy pickings."

He chuckled to himself; placing his fingers in his mouth, he gave a high-pitched whistle. Moments later, Timber emerged from the bedroom covered in blood; she came toward Snake Eyes with his Katana in her mouth. Bailey cooed at the wolf as she checked to make sure the blood on Timber's fur was not from a wound.

He heard the rest of the Cobra Crimson Guards break down the door of Bailey's home. He pushed her to the window at the end of the hallway. Opening it up, they made their way onto the roof outside.

Under the window as a Hispanic man and an African American woman. "Hand the dog to me." The man said in a heavy New York accent.

"Wolf," Bailey corrected. She handed the seventy-pound canine down to the man who smiled, shakily. Timber must have sensed the man was a friend, and proceeded to lick his face, which caused him to break out into a smile.

The woman reached down and scratched Timber behind the ears, "You don't say? I have seen it, my friend, and it is strong; I promise you."

She then, turned to look at Bailey who was hanging on the awning, dropping down. Snake Eyes was quick to follow; he watched as Timber ignored him and jumped on Bailey to make sure she was okay.

"Snake Eyes, this is Detective Rick Pena and his wife ADA Marie Pena, the Queen of New Orleans.

Snake Eyes was not a stranger the title, nor was he to those who practiced the various forms of magic. He had learned as he went through his own training for enlightenment and peace, to not question anything otherworldly. Always look at things of mystical origin with a grain of faith in yourself and the outside forces.

"Gambit and your friends were attacked at King's," Maria explained. "The Dreadnocks have started causing havoc across the whole damn city."

"Greyson Sterling revealing he is Zartan has caused the spy guild to fracture. Those who have gone into hiding are saying that Zartan has been promised, by the Commander, help to free Zarana from GITMO. Only if he brings you to him, dead or alive."

Maria looked down, her eyes spoke volumes. "Bailey, they've killed Bella Donna, and parading her head around on a spike."

Rick swore; before his wife could finish "We could use a little more cover." He pointed to the square. "Flannery Lafitte called me, it seems that the Patrol Officers are going to let this work itself out; not help the Joe team, nor the Dreadnocks. They want to see who ends up on top."

They made their way toward a small park on the other side of the street from her house. Hidden in the shadows, Bailey watched as the Crimson Guards set her house on fire. Snake Eyes' heart broke watching his Thief try to keep her face impartial. She didn't live there anymore, yet something told him the house still had a place in her heart.

"We're coming in hot!" Gung-Ho roared.

Snake Eyes turned to see Cover Girl, Gambit and the Marine racing towards them. Snake Eyes saw behind them was fifteen Dreadnocks.

"It's all Cross Country's fault." Cover Girl Screamed. Referencing that the Ginger Haired 88-Mike had a habit of wandering off, somewhere, and then come racing back with Cobra, or some other enemy, hot at his heels.

"We already had enough problems." Snake Eyes signed; then pointing to the five remaining Crimson Guards walking toward their vehicles regrouping. It was doubtful that they will still believe they were in the house after Gung-Ho came in screaming his head off.

"We've been in worse situations." Cover Girl pointed out. "Besides you like these odds, Superman." She said with a smirk pointing out that all he had on was his Superman underwear.

"Who doesn't like Superman?" Snake Eyes signed. Crossing his arms blinking. Not caring that he was in his Superman Boxer Briefs, Superman was cool.

"I am Batman," Gambit said without missing a beat.

"Is that a challenge?" Snake Eyes retorted.

That small quip was dismissed. "Bad news: a QR team is two hours out. Good news: my clan is ten minutes out." Gung Ho explained, swearing.

Bailey dropped her magazine, taking a spare from Cover Girl. "Why aren't they aren't coming any closer?" She nodded to the group of Dreadnocks milling, barely a hundred yards from them.

"They are waiting on Zartan," Gambit explained, "To make a move on two Thieves, the Queen, and a Keeper, would not be a smart move without Zartan's approval."

"Keeper?" Cover Girl looked confused.

"We are the Keepers of the history of the Guilds. We watch, but we never interfere. But I'm not in good standing. I married the Queen of New Orleans. Some of the other Keepers think, in doing that, I chose a side. The Queen has never hidden her disdain for the New Orleans Spy Guild."

"Guys, get ready," Gung-Ho informed, nodding toward the scene.

Zartan was making his way through the crowd of unwashed miscreants to the front. "Oh look, he had time for a costume change," Cover Girl pointed out.

"ALL I WANT IS GAMBIT AND SNAKE EYES!" Zartan roared. The crowd behind him backed up his request with their own yells and roars.

"We can hold them off." Cover Girl said, more as an encouragement to herself. "Five minutes, forty very angry Cajuns, armed to the teeth, will show up. We got this."

Snake Eyes admired the model; her Wolverine tank gave her a sense of security that her sparkling navy top didn't.

Bailey shook her head, "I was in the last battle of the Guild wars; you know, as I do, most firefights only last a few minutes. We might not have those five minutes. But if we…" Before she could complete her thought her pump chirped.

Snake Eyes frantically went to grab the device, clipped to her underwear. She grabbed his wrist; for a minute, there was a battle of wills: Irish Stubbornness mixed with Latino Passion, beat out Scottish bullheadedness.

"Ignore it, Please." She begged him. Snake Eyes already knew she would fight with them until her body sent her crashing into a Diabetic Coma. Just like she knew that he would protect her at all costs. "I will not be a liability to you, or to them."

Snake Eyes looked at the screen the message read: reservoir empty. Her adrenaline rush had decimated her supply. He took her face in his hands; "We move forward, hope the Lafitte clan gets here. If I fall, Pena, you take my excess bullets."

"It doesn't work that way," The gruff Gunny said. "You can't have another episode, and you know it."

"We can't surrender." Bailey looked at him. "They won't let any of us walk away."

"They would let you two go." Cover Girl said looking at her and the Queen.

"We can't verify that, and it's not your fucking decision," Bailey looked at them all. "Don't do this, please, we fight."

Snake Eyes kissed her forehead; her running out of insulin was a mistake he would never make again. He had to shove that thought aside. He had to buy her time to get the medicine she needed. The Ninja hoped that Bailey was as good at rescuing the white knight as she was talking smack; he was counting on her to save his burnt ass.

She snarled at him. He tightened his hold on her face. She went to look away, but he refused to allow her; she needed to understand what he needed from her. He finally let go, watching her lower her head. He looked down at her and noticed her hand turning the Claddagh on her finger. She stilled and pulled it off. Placing it on his pinky.

Gambit seemed to know where this was going. Stepping up, hands outstretch "If I go, you promise you won't hurt anyone?" Remy asked the enemy.

"I work for Cobra," Zartan reminded Gambit. "Besides, why would I let you live?"

"Treasure. Do you think that we keep all of it here in New Orleans?" Gambit shrugged. "I can show Cobra Commander where the Conclaves Repository is; the New Orleans Thieves Guild is charged with protecting it."

"Fine." Zartan replied, with irritation.

Snake Eyes was surprised as to how easily Zartan had agreed to their request.

Out of nowhere, the thief produced a cigarette. "You don't mind if I have one last smoke?"

Zartan sighed, "Hurry up."

"Tell the Queen to take up the slack." He told Detective Peña. With that, he lit the cigarette and examined Bailey. "Bailey Hart-Burnett, in the eyes of the guild, you cease to exist, you are lower than dirt, we will ignore you, you are not even worth our hate."

He took her wrist. "Don't worry about me, both of you, all of you get him…" She looked at Snake Eyes one last time.

He held her arm tighter, refusing to look at her, and cut her off, whispering, "When you kill Zartan, say, Yo Joe."

Snake Eyes watched as Gambit put his cigarette out over her tattoo, causing his beloved Water Nymph to grit her teeth, fighting with determination to not cry out in pain. He looked at Remy and Bailey with a mix of anger and sadness as the head of the New Orleans Thieves Guild spoke, "You're free."

He followed Gambit, hands on their heads, and moved toward Zartan. The sadistic bastard smiled, taking in his boxer briefs, "Come on, Clark Kent, the Commander waits."

* * *

"Oh, God," Scarlett O'Hara launched herself up out of bed. The alarm wasn't what woke her; it was the overwhelming desire to get to the bathroom the easiest way possible.

In her rush, her foot landed on her husband's stomach; he woke up having her hundred and twenty pounds slam down full force on his abdomen. In his state of surprise, he let out a string of curses that caused her to blush.

Holding a hand over her mouth, Shana prayed that she would make it to the bathroom in time. Sliding to a stop in front of the toilet she, unceremoniously, stuck her red-head into the porcelain bowl. Seconds later she was saying goodbye to what little contents that resided in her stomach.

Cursing what cruel fate had caused this blasted stomach bug; she laid her head on the cool porcelain seat. It wasn't long until she felt a hand pull up her thick, red hair and place a bottle of water on her neck. There was Conrad, concern written in his eyes.

She looked up at Duke; his calloused hand rubbed her back, trying to soothe her. Scarlett leaned into him, but his deodorant turned her stomach. She turned back to the toilet and wretched again. "Just leave me here," she moaned. "I want to die."

"It'll be over in a minute." He rose up and moved into the bedroom. She could hear him turning on lights, rummaging through drawers. Even feeling like death was near, she took the time to appreciate her husband's backside.

Like many of their teammates, he was scarred. The worse one was a scar that ran down the center of his chest, proof to her how close she had come to losing him. She blinked up at him, giving him puppy dog eyes. "How do you know it will be over in a minute?"

"It was yesterday and the day before that." His grin took a goofy look.

"Why are you looking like that?" She glared at him.

She knew where his thoughts were going, and she wasn't ready, yet. No there had to be planning for something this major, this important; hell, three day ago she had been shot at and jumped out of an airplane. She hadn't even been taking prenatal vitamins or the dozen other things that one should be doing to get prepared to get pregnant. Hell, she sparred with Jinx, yesterday. No, she was not pregnant.

"I don't know what you are talking about," Duke said, leaving their bathroom, the only room in their loft that had privacy.

 _They would need to buy their own place. You can't raise a child over a bar and grill._ "That look." she said, standing up, thinking better of it as the room spun and tilted.

"What look?" He asked, "You can't see my look; you are in the bathroom and I am in the kitchen making you breakfast."

"Can't eat breakfast," She lowered back down to the floor. "I have Alpha group run."

"Just got Bombstrike to cover for you." He waved his phone.

"I can run." She made her way over to the counter. The hardboiled egg her husband was peeling caused her stomach to rebel, again. This time into the kitchen sink.

God Bless Duke, he held her hair, as she retched. He pushed her towards a glass of milk, a sleeve of Saltine crackers and a bottle of Ginger Ale that he had placed on the counter.

"Drink the Milk first, babe." He said kissing her temple. She felt him behind her, pulling her long hair out of her face. She knew it would be a messy ponytail, but, at the moment, she didn't care.

She sniffed the milk. Pouting up at her husband this time he gave her the puppy dogs eyes. Which had her sighing dramatically, "This is not going to end pretty."

"Trust me, it helped my mom. She didn't have it easy with Vinnie." He kissed her nose, then winced at his handy work with her ponytail.

"Down the hatch," with that, she took a sip. She was surprised how easy it stayed down and the soothing effect it had on her battered stomach. She then finished the glass in one gulp.

He chuckled as she finished the glass and then she looked at him. "It's the stomach flu." She told him, taking a bite of cracker.

He pulled her into his arms and chuckled, holding her. She wrinkled her nose at the citrus scent of his deodorant. Afraid to say anything because she was the one that picked it up for him. She had driven Lady Jaye and Jinx insane as she had smelled each scent until she finally chosen the one she liked best. Now, the smell turned her stomach.

"I think..." He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into him. The chipper tone of Wipeout interrupted him.

"Bailey?" Scarlett asked, looking out in the background, she could hear gunfire and screams.

"For the record," Bailey's voice was heard screaming into the cell phone.

She could hear Lift Ticket yelling in the background, "We got to get out of here now."

She looked up at her husband and he brought his ear closer to the phone to hear an explosion, then silence. Finally after a beat Cover Girl growled into the phone. "This is all Duke's fault."


End file.
